Innocence
by xxxfire-feariexxx
Summary: After watching her brother die, Ginny becomes a mute and isolates herself from everyone. Unfortunately, Draco has made it his goal to try to crack her shell and teach her to trust and love again.
1. Memories

Summary: After watching her brother die, Ginny becomes a mute and isolates herself from everyone. Unfortunately, Draco has made it his goal to try to crack her shell and teach her to trust and love again.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

There comes a time in everyone's life when they must bridge to adulthood. When they must lose that last shard of childhood innocence and naivety and realize the cruel ways of the world. The age and moment and realization is different for everyone. I was just eleven when it happened to me. As a young girl, I was scarred for life. At eleven I found a small, innocent black diary in my cauldron. It was my very first year of Hogwarts, one I had been looking forward to for years. I thought everything would be great. And then did I discover that the little black diary talked. I wasn't stupid nor was I ignorant. I had lived in the wizarding world all my life. I had grown up with my two brothers who would play dirty tricks on me. I had always known of bad magic. Magic that was meant to harm others. But, at that young age, I was naive and innocent. I had never been mistreated. I had never been abused. Nor had I ever been neglected or hurt by anyone. I took everyone as a kind person, innocent until proven guilty. There goes that word again. Innocent. I never knew anyone that wasn't innocent.

And then, he betrayed me. Tom Riddle, a boy I had trusted, a boy I had thought innocent and kind, tried to kill me. To drain all my life like a parasite. To use me to come alive and hurt others. I hadn't realized until it was too late. Until he was pulling me into the Chamber of Secrets. I was weak, I could not stop him. He was strong, cunning, and cruel. He had no remorse for killing others. For killing the innocent. I went into that Chamber innocent. Never knowing of pain or hurt. Never seeing a person that could kill without thinking twice about it. Never seeing someone die.

Not many know what happened in the Chamber before Harry came. I barely know, I was so lifeless. Tom merely paced, muttering and waiting for Harry. He paid no mind to me. To him I was already dead. I was useless to him, a waste of time in which he could be planning Harry's defeat. I lay there, watching him, barely able to move. I knew I was going to die down there. I was scared. So very scared. But, just like him, I was thinking as well. I realized down there, as I watched the boy pace nervously, that he was not horrible or evil. He was just a child. One who, unlike me, had grown up with death, abuse, neglect, and hatred. One who had learned nothing of love and kindness. I realized, he was just as naive about the world as I. For, we had one thing in common. We had both seen only one side of the world, I the innocent, he the cruel, and it had affected us. It had landed us here. He had never been given a chance, and now he never would. But, I realized, though I could not change what he was about to do, kill me and Harry, I could forgive him. Forgive him, for no one ever had forgiven him for who he was. But I would, before I died, I would show him that in this world there is kindness. There is forgiveness.

I worked up as much energy as I could and croaked to him, "You may not care, but I want you to know something."

He looked over at me, stopping his pacing. His face was surprised, as if he thought me to already be dead now. "What," he said, leaning against a pillar elegantly and looking bored. "A last word for Harry? Want me to tell him you love him, since you were too cowardly to?"

I merely smiled at him. Even now he was naïve. "No," I whispered. "I want you to know that I forgive you. I forgive you for killing me, for I'm sure you'll succeed. And for Harry, I forgive you in advance if you do end up defeating him. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry that no one gave you a chance…No one allowed you to see the other side of life. The kind side…The loving side. I'm sorry for you…And I hope you forgive us." I had to gasp for breath between each sentence. My lungs refused to take in breath, my heartbeat was slowing.

I stared at him, not sure what his reaction would be. I definitely did not expect him to break down, his heart melting as he pleaded for forgiveness. Nor did he. Actually, he merely stared at me. And then, he laughed.

"Wise words in your death, foolish child. I'm about to kill you and you tell me you forgive me. You are more of a ninny than I thought."

I merely smiled at him, before my world went black. And, surprisingly, I wasn't scared. Actually, I was calmly peaceful.

When I awoke again, Harry was by my side. He had won. Tom was gone; the only memory left of him a blank diary. Funny, as he was merely a memory to begin with. When I left that Chamber, I was no longer innocent. I had almost died. Someone had been killed in the very same room as me. Harry himself was half dead with venom.

But, a piece of me had died as well. My innocence had left me when Tom hurt me. I had seen that part of the world. The cruel part. The painful part. My world was no longer innocent. And neither was I.

Though I had forgiven Tom Riddle (Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, what have you), I had thought he was finished with me. I had thought I would no longer have to see or speak to that man. No longer be hurt by him. I could never have been more wrong.

That night, I had had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. All night I had felt sick. It was rainy outside; a storm had blown over England. It was wet, dark, and loud. Lightning and thunder were everywhere. A loud boom surrounded me and the house shook. It was a summer night, late at night. Father had taken mother out dancing. They hadn't been out in years, and now that I was old enough to take care of myself, they wanted to go on a date. They had to pick that night to leave. They might have prevented it. Or maybe they would have added more numbers to the death toll. I will never know now.

It was July 17th, 10:00 pm. Like I said before, mother and father were out. Percy was still at work, working a night shift. Ron had left to go to Hermione's house where they would meet up with Harry and take Ron out to see a Muggle movie. Surprisingly, it would also be the first time Harry ever went to a movie theatre. Nobody was home, except my brother and I.

My brother Charlie was home from Romania for the week. He still had his usual long hair, not nearly so long as Bill's that it drove Mother crazy. It was a strawberry blonde color from being in the sun so much. Since I had last seen him, he had gotten an eyebrow piercing and dragon tattoo that liked to roam around his body and spit fire at anyone he didn't like, though mostly it just settled on his left shoulder blade and slept. Charlie was my favorite of all my brothers. He listened to me and loved to talk with me. He understood me in my times of need. He comforted me when I felt bad. I had never had a fight with him. Not one time. Never raised my voice to him, nor had he to me. He was the person I trusted most in the entire world.

It was our first night alone together since he had come home.

I sat next to my brother, his large legs sprawled across the floor. My short legs were tucked up under me. I had always been short, like my mother. He was reading to me from a large book he had bought in a Muggle shop. It was by The Brothers Grim, and odd name I thought, and the story was about a girl named Cinderella who waited on her evil stepsisters and stepmother all day, and even though they were cruel to her she loved them anyway. I sat back with my eyes closed and listened, picturing the story in my head. It's not that I don't liked to read, but Charlie is such a vivid, animated storyteller. Or, was, I should say.

"You know," said my brother with a grin and a ruffle of my hair, "you remind me of her."

I opened on eye and looked up at him questioningly. "How so? She's a blonde." This made him laugh. I loved his laughter, more beautiful than a thousand church bells ringing, stronger than the toll of Big Ben at midnight and richer than chocolate on a hot summer night.

He smiled down at me from his height. He was taller even when we were sitting. My brother was completely focused on me instead of the book. I remember how his eyes crinkled up when he smile. He had small, indefinite creases forming around them. They would one day be as deep as

Dad's. That was what I was thinking at the moment. It's funny how sometimes we remember the oddest of things. I remember those creases around his eyes from smiling. He was always smiling or laughing. Always happy. He never let anything get him down. I respected him for that.

"You're so kind. When people are cruel to you, you merely go on living. Never let anything get you down. You always forgive people. And you always work hard. Not to mention, you are the prettiest girl in this entire kingdom of England. I wouldn't be surprised if one day a prince asked you to marry him."

"I'm not pretty," I said, blushing and staring at the floor.

"Yes, you are Gin Bug," he said, lifting my head so our eyes met. He always called me Gin Bug. I acted like I hated the name, but I really loved it. He was the only one who I ever let call me that. It was something we could share.

"Oh! I almost forgot. I got somebody an early birthday present," he said, holding up a small box. It was a jewelry box, I could tell right away. I was nearly hopping up and down, excited to be receiving a gift from my brother. He always gave me the best, most meaningful gifts.

"Happy Birthday, Ginny," he said, handing me the box. I tore it open and gasped. Inside was a small pendent, about five centimeters tall. It was made of a light, durable metal. The pendent was a fairy, small with lovely wings and wavy, flowing hair, much like mine. Around her wrist was a baby dragon. It was all silver, but definitely not simple. The carving was so intricate and tiny and detailed. And it was surprisingly as light as a feather.

"It's so light," I said.

"It's made from a metal that was formed when a dragon blew fire onto it. It is light and durable and will never rust. It's magical." Though I had grown up with magic all my life, this was special. Dragon magic. And it was from Charlie, who made everything magical.

"Put it on me, please Charlie!"

"Sure Gin Bug."

I moved my hair to one side of my neck as Charlie clasped the necklace. I could feel his hands tingling the hairs on my back. They were big, warm hands. I remember those, too.

When he had finished putting the necklace on me I turned towards him and gave him a bear hug. Charlie had taught me to never give a hug unless it was a bear hug, for those were the only real hugs.

"Go on and look in the mirror!" he said. I rushed to the bathroom and admired the necklace. It was the loveliest thing I had ever worn. My heart was light just at the sight of it. I swore I would never take it off.

As I stood in front of the mirror, I heard a large crash of thunder. And something else. A sound of…struggling? There was something going on in the living room. I rushed in there to find Death Eaters, five of them, in our home. A window was broken, allowing the storm in our house. I could hear it and see the water pouring in through the window and dripping down the wall and I thought, absurdly, Mum is going to have a fit when she sees that water stain. Charlie was standing, my wand in his hand. I had left it on the table; I was glad about that. That seemed to be all I could feel in my sudden shock.

"Tell us! Where is she?!"

"She's not here! What do you want with her?!"

"That's none of your business!" one of the men yelled, and hit my brother. He fell to the floor.

"We know your sister is here somewhere, Weasley, now tell us!" the man said, kicking him in the stomach.

Another Death Eater raised his wand to my brother. "We can make him talk." His voice was calm and fluent, unlike the other Death Eaters. Sophisticated.

Just as he was about to say the Cruciatus Curse, I screamed. I don't really remember screaming. I'm not even sure what it I said. I just remember screaming and jumping in front of him.

I could feel two strong arms scooping me up and moving. Running down the hall towards the bathroom I had just left. At first I thought it was the Death Eaters that had me, and I began struggling, but when I glanced up I saw my brother's panicked face. I was too heavy for him, he wasn't going fast enough. Loud, heavy boots followed behind us. Boots made from dragon skin. Charlie had never worn anything dragon skin, he thought it was disrespectful to the magnificent creatures. I glanced over his shoulder to see the five men round the corner. Luckily, they were going slower because of their drenched clothes. But not much slower. One of them threw a curse at us, what it was, I have no clue. I just remember yelling to Charlie, warning him. He dropped me and turned. He created a shield, just in time. Charlie began dueling with the five men, trying to keep them back. He looked so elegant, dodging and casting spells, his body dancing in the small hallway. I was mesmerized until a spell whipped past my head.

"Run!" he yelled at me. I ran. I knew I was no use to him. I knew they were after me. I knew what I had heard. I didn't know why, but I didn't question. I sprinted, like Charlie told me to. I wish now I hadn't. I wish now I had fought with him. Instead, I fled like a coward. I fell into the bathroom. The same one I had been in only moments before. Then I turned and stood numbly in the open door, wondering why Charlie wasn't following me.

"Charlie! Come on!" I yelled to him. I watched as he fought with skill. Two men were already lying on the floor, but getting back up. Why hadn't he killed them when he had that perfect shot?

Charlie backed quickly towards the door towards the door. "Get inside!" he commanded. "Shut the door!"

"No!" I stood there, waiting for him to reach me. Waiting, so we could hide in there together. He was getting closer. He was dodging spells. He was almost there. And then, he shut the door. Only, he wasn't in the room with me. He was outside of it, still fighting. I tried to open the door, but Charlie had all his weight against it. He wasn't budging. "Get in here!" I yelled to him, pounding on the door, beating my hands against it, clawing at it, but he didn't listen. I watched through a crack between the door and wall as a man disarmed my brother. Earlier, the man had been carrying a cane, one of the elegant ones, and I watched in horror as he opened it and pulled out a sword. He strode to my brother slowly, each footfall like a death toll.

"Come on! Someone is here! We've got to go!" A voice yelled from down the hall. A Death Eater scrambled to his feet and turned tail, fleeing.

The man didn't answer his comrade. He walked up to my brother, whose dead weight was against the door. My brother was kneeled over in pain from one of the curses that had hit him. He stared up into the Death Eater's eyes, and, from what I could see of my brother's face, showed no fear.

"Charlie! Charlie run!" I yelled. I beat against the door. I screamed. I tried to get out. He closed his eyes as the man brought the sword down.

Charlie's blood. I knew it was Charlie's blood, but I didn't want to believe it. I watched as the man stabbed Charlie. And then, he, along with the other Death Eaters, disappeared. They broke another window, jumping out of it and heading towards the perimeter of our yard, where they could apparate away.

I was pushing on the door with all my might. Pushing against Charlie's dead weight. I finally got it open. Finally. Even as I knelt in front of my brother, my tears spilling down my cheeks, and begged him to be okay, I knew the truth. He was dying.

The rest of my memory is cloudy, broken, confusing. I heard a voice in the room. Fred and George were standing there, looking shocked and upset. I had forgotten they were coming home to see Charlie. They had been the ones the Death Eaters heard and ran away from. Fred's wand was raised, but he slowly lowered it as he looked at my brother. "I'll go to get help! I'll be right back!" he yelled, though he was just two meters from me, and rushed out of the room.

"Bloody hell…." George muttered. "I'll go get some towels and floo mum and dad." And he too was gone.

I went to run, but a light hand on my wrist stopped me.

"Gin Bug, stay with me," I heard Charlie ask, his voice hoarse. As hoarse as mine had been when I told Tom Riddle I had forgiven him. The voice of a person who knew he was dying.

"You need help!" I screamed. My voice was not hoarse. It was loud and hysterical and broken. "Those men might come back!"

"They won't. Please Ginny. Don't let me die alone."

"You aren't going to die!" I was yelling again, my voice was cracking. Tears were streaming out of my eyes. I could feel them in my mouth. They were salty and hot.

"Please," he said, his face pained.

I crawled to his body and cradled it. I put his head on my shoulder and hugged his middle. I could feel his warm breath come in short gasps against my cheek. Tears were streaming down my face.

"Gin Bug, I love you," he said to me. This only made the tears come faster. "Never forget that."

And then, the breath had stopped. My cheek suddenly felt as cold as ice. Never had I felt colder. His breath was gone. He was gone. The tears streamed over him and me. I could have wept an ocean and I probably did. I hugged him against me and began to rock. In comfort for him or in insanity, I don't know. Both probably. My brother was dead. My mind could not, would not fathom it. But I knew it was true. He was gone forever. My brother would never smile again. His eyes would never crinkle up. He would never marry or have kids or own dragons or give me gifts or love and comfort me again. He would never read me stories or tell me useless random facts. Would never hug me or kiss me or call me Gin Bug. I felt as if I was drowning in a sea of pain. He would never live again. I could never live again. Not without him. I couldn't make it without him.

I don't remember how long I knelt beside my brother. It may have been hours, maybe only minutes. But at some point I heard footsteps. I looked up through bloodshot eyes when they stopped. My parents were there. They stood, staring with their mouths open at me and Charlie. They could tell he was dead. Gone. I could see it in their eyes. The horror. They knew. They knew now what war did to people. And so did I. I put my head down, on top of my brothers. I began to rock him again, side to side. His body was still warm. I wanted to bask in that warmth. How could he leave me here, all alone in this cold room, while he was warm? How could he leave me in this cold world? Someone walked towards me. I didn't bother to look up this time to see who. I heard them stop and crouch down in front of me, their bones creaking.

I could hear my mother crying. I knew that since she had not thrown herself onto her dead son's body, she was crying against my father or one of the twins' shoulders.

"Ginny," the warm voice said. A comforting voice usually. It had soothed me after the Chamber of Secrets. Now, it held no consolation for me. I looked up into my father's eyes. They were old and sad. His lips were pursed together, as if he didn't know what to say. I just wanted him to go, to leave me here with my brother. But he didn't. He wouldn't.

His hand reached out to touch my face, but I moved my head, so that he could not. I didn't want him to touch me or to comfort me.

"Come on, we'll take him to the infirmary." I could hear how blank, lost, confused my father's voice was.

"Why? He's dead," were the harsh words that came out of my mouth. Cold words.

He went to pick me up, to carry me away, when I screamed. "No! No! I won't leave him! He said not to leave him! He said to hold him! You can't make me leave him!" I knew the tears were spilling. I knew I sounded like a mad woman. I knew that they were staring at me. My mother cried louder. But I didn't care. They could not make me leave my brother.

"Come on-" he said, but I cut him off.

"No!" I yelled. He knew he could not get me to leave. He grabbed me around the waist and began to haul me away from my brother. I struggled against him, thrashing and kicking and clawing and screaming. I tore his glasses from his face and threw them against the other side of the room, where they broke. I didn't let go of my grip on my brother's body.

"Ginny! Enough!" he yelled at me, but still I persisted. "Ginny! Don't make me curse you."

I ignored the old man. He sighed deeply and said, "I'm sorry for this Ginny."

With that, I heard him say a spell I had never heard of, and slowly, I was becoming calm. Before I blacked out, as he picked me up and began carrying me away, the last thing I saw was my dead brother in the corner.


	2. Forgiveness

Here I sit now, just two months after Charlie's death. I remember the funeral so vividly. It was warm and dark clouds rumbled in the distance. A storm was coming. I shivered in my black dress.

"Are you cold, Ginny?" my brother Ronald asked me. I did not answer him. I hadn't talked once for the last two days since Charlie's death. Not a single peep. At first it was out of anger, because they took me away from my brother. But now, I didn't want to. I was too tired to talk to them. Too tired to work up the energy to speak. I sat beside my family. All of my distant cousins and relatives were here. My grandmother was weeping. A casket was open in the middle. They wanted us to see his body before they set it on fire. They called it cremating. Really, they were just burning it. Funny, for Charlie always played with Dragons, and every time one of them burned him, he would just laugh it off. I smiled thinking of him, and then my heart filled with pain. I heard the priest saying words and praying. My mother was weeping. My father had tears leaking down his face, though he tried to keep them back. The Order was there. Many of the professors. So many people were there. Charlie loved people. He loved to socialize with people. He always had friends, with all different kinds of people. All different races, personalities, ages, and social standings. He could comfort a person and make them feel safe. Make them feel understood.

The priest had stopped talking. It was silent. We were supposed to go up to the casket now. Supposed say a prayer or give a gift. Supposed to say goodbye. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. My family went up there. My mother first, weeping, her nose running. She choked on the sobs as she said farewell. And then my father. All of my brothers. They were waiting for me now. I couldn't handle it. But my feet started to move anyway. Against my will I felt myself rise up and slowly walk towards the casket. The wind blew against my dress and hair. I used to love the wind, loved how it would comb my hair and make it soft. Loved how it could sometimes be strong enough to pick me up. Loved how it would blow my skirts around, like in the Muggle movies. Now, I took no comfort in that. The wind could kill. Tornados and hurricanes and storms. It was storming that night.

I shook the thoughts from my head. Tried to anyway. Tried to shake the memory, the sight, the smell, and the warmth of his blood. The sound of his voice, a voice I would no longer hear. Along with my own. If he no longer spoke, neither would I. I made that promise to myself right then and there.

I had arrived to the casket, but not yet looked in. I breathed in shaky breaths and let them out, trying with all my might not to cry. I would not cry. I would not speak. I would not let my sadness show. For the life of me, I wouldn't do it. _He died for the life of me. Was it even worth it?_

I closed my eyes and opened them, preparing myself to look over. I felt as if I was about to leap over a cliff. I looked down. And took in a shaky breath. He was pale, so pale. Even with his tan, he was pale. His lips were blue. Someone had cleaned the blood off of him and put him in a nice suit. He hated suits. He shouldn't be wearing a suit. Didn't they know that? He should have been wearing his favorite t-shirt. The one with the giant green dragon on it. And some of his burned shorts. He should have been wearing a pair of those jean shorts with burned, fraying spots on them. His hair was back in a ponytail. He didn't mind it that way, to keep it out of the way, but he had told me himself, he liked it to be loose and open. To be free. He liked it when the wind raked his hair as well. My fingers itched, and I couldn't stop myself. I reached down and pulled the hair bow out of his hair. It wasn't even his hair bow. With my fingers I did the best I could to comb the strands loose from under his head. All of his piercings were gone. They had taken them out. Luckily, I had found one of them. Right in front of the bathroom where he died was where I found it.

I took the little earring out of my pocket. It was a dragon, of course. The first one he had ever gotten, and his favorite. I put it in his right ear, where he always kept it. I wanted so badly to see his blue eyes again. Blue like mine. I reached down and lifted his eyelids up. His eyes were dull, lifeless. Nothing was in them. They weren't his, they had to be fake. No smile. No sadness. No emotion. None. They were like glass. I let them go, and shut the eyes again. I felt myself smiling, my lips trembling to hold the tears back. But one fell. Just one, on his lips. His cold blue lips.

I brushed my hair to one side of my neck, like I had done that night when he put the necklace on me. I lowered my head and touched my lips to my brothers. Lifting my head up, I realized everyone was staring at me. I had been here for a long time, a very long time. It was time to go.

I ran out of the funeral area in our back yard. I ran into the house. I thought I would cry, but the tears didn't come. I was grateful for that.

I left the funeral early. I didn't care, though. I couldn't stay there. I'm sure one of them followed me, but I didn't care about that either. I just wanted to be alone. I was alone. I ran past the spot where I had held him. Someone had cleaned off the blood. I ran to my room, the very top one, in the very tallest tower. He had insisted I live in this one, because I was the princess. _My brother had left me._

I locked the door and threw myself on the bed. I found no comfort in the big bed and soft blankets. In the purple room with white curtains. I looked down at the pendant around my neck. I didn't take it off as I washed his blood from me, reluctantly. Nor when I slept. I would never take the necklace off for the rest of my life, I silently vowed to myself. Just as I would never let them see me cry. Just as I would never speak.

And I still haven't taken it off. As I sit on the train watching the world go by I finger the dragon that the little fairy is holding. It stays under my clothes when I'm around people, and I only take it out when I'm alone. This necklace is my friend and comfort and secret. I am alone now on the train. I found my own compartment against my Ron's wishes. He and Hermione and Harry have tried desperately to get me to talk to them. I have not said a word since his death. My mother was worried. At first she just thought it was temporary. But after two weeks, when I would not speak, she took me to a mediwitch. One that specialized in psychiatry. The woman and many others tried with all their might to get me to talk, but I have stayed silent as stone. They will not make me speak. My mother is worried for me. Along with all of the Order and my family. I hate to make her worry, how much it pains me to do so, but I have promised myself not to talk. I will keep this promise.

My family has worked out a way of basic conversation with me. They will ask a yes or no question, receiving a nod, shake, or shrug. Usually it's a shrug, but they still persist. And they will talk to me, even when I don't respond.

My compartment feels cold. Though, everything feels cold now. Even though it is only September 1st, even though the leaves are just beginning to turn, I find myself wearing a cloak all the time. I try to warm myself, but I always feel cold. Outside it is clear and sunny. Inside of me though, it feels as dreary and stormy as it was that night. I think back to that night. I remember, after waking up on the couch, them all standing around me. I had been out for a few hours from the sedative spell, they told me. They had charmed me and snuck my brother away, out from under my nose. They had cleaned the blood off of the spot. My family and a few professors stood over me, their faces worried. They told me to take a shower, to clean myself up. I did. I didn't cry as I washed the blood off of my body. When I returned to the living room the dawn was just arriving. The storm had passed, along with my brother, but still I shuddered, looking at the sky. I looked at the book in the living room. It was open on the story of Cinderella, though Charlie had never gotten to finish reading it to me.

I feel the train slowing to a stop. Outside it is dark and I glance at my watch, which reads eight pm. I step off of the train and walk towards the carriages. But, they are different this year. This year, ugly, black horses pull them. I've heard about these creatures, thestrals, that only those whom have watched someone die can see. Harry described them as ugly, bony creatures with red eyes, but I actually find them quite beautiful, in an eerie, gothic sort of way. But, as I walk towards the carriages, I find myself glaring at them, as if it is their fault that my brother is dead.

I realize I do not want to ride the carriages to the castle. To be stuck in a small, confined black carriage that looks so much like the hearse that carried my brother away as I watched from my bedroom window sounds worse to me than walking through the cold, harsh wind under threatening rain clouds. I amble towards the castle on foot, not caring about the distance. It's about an hour walk, especially in the dark, but I still find it better than the stuffy, overcrowded carriages, despite the eyes staring at me as people pass. When I reach the castle the sorting ceremony has already begun. I look in through the window at the first years lined up, shifting nervously. They look so young, so innocent. They won't be for long. A war is coming. Soon, no child will be innocently naive of this cruel world. I remember my sorting, just four years ago today. I remember waiting in anticipation to walk up to the stool. I remember sitting on it, the cloth hat reading into my mind. I don't know how I got into Gryffindor. No bravery I had in me, none in my body at all. So, how did I get in there? I remember the hat reading my thoughts, my memories of a happy child that had never experienced the cruelness of the world. Who only thought of the amazing Harry Potter, getting good grades, and being loved by her family. The girl who had never had to be brave in the face of danger. And when she was, what did she do? She ran, and left her brother to fight for her. She hid in a bathroom while her brother died. And then she cried over it.

I feel the hatred for myself bubbling up. I will forgive the Death Eaters, I will forgive Tom, I will forgive my parents for not being there, and then for taking my brother away from me. But I will never forgive myself for running when I should have fought. I turn away from the sorting ceremony and make my way towards my bedroom, all thoughts of food, all thoughts of anything but self-loathing, forgotten, as they have been for the past two months.


	3. Scars

I am walking down the halls, minding my own business when she comes up to me. She is tall, about one and a half meters, and has long, blonde hair. She is beautiful, with dazzling green eyes and full lips and a lot of curves. She is also a Slytherin and the school slut. Pansy Parkinson.

Behind her came two of her cronies. An Asian girl with short black hair. I heard her name was Zambini or something. Her and her brother came here from Japan. At least, that's where my brother Fred said she was from. She had come into his and George's shop one day, and now all he talks about is her. It's really annoying, quite frankly. She is wearing a skimpy schoolgirl outfit and carrying a bag with a little animated cat on it. She even has these crazy streaks of all different colors in her hair, which I'm sure is against the school dress code. The other girl is also a Slytherin from her robes. She is tall and burly and looks much like the female version of Crabbe and Goyle.

Anyway, as I was saying, I was simply walking to my next class when the three girls approached me. Pansy Parkinson, who was wearing so much makeup I was surprised she could even lift up her head, began talking first. "Well, if it isn't the little Weaselette. I heard you don't talk now, what, too good to talk to us normal people?"

It was about a month into the school year. Word had clearly gotten around that I refused to speak. My teachers were fed up with it, especially Snape. Every time they would ask a question I would merely stare at them. It unnerved them, I could tell, but I found it quite amusing to watch their faces turn red. And in Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts, I had figured out my own way of saying spells. I don't know how it happened, but if I build up enough energy, I can think the spell in my head, and have it work just as well. Though, it always leaves me feeling weak and drained by the end of class, and sometimes the spells are a bit chaotic and hard to control. And, they don't come out through my wand, but through my hand. I hold my wand, though, for appearances sake. It's weird, I know. It's advanced magic, wandless, voiceless magic, I know that as well. But I'm not planning on telling anyone anytime soon. This is my secret, my special power, and I am going to keep it that way. And besides, in war, any special powers are useful, no matter how small.

I am shaken from my thoughts by a shove to the chest. The impact of my bum with the ground wakes me up the rest of the way, and I glance up to see her laughing with her friends. Gathering my books, I try to walk around the girl, but she steps in front of me. It's not that I really care about being late to a class, especially Snape's Potion's class, which is what I have next; I just don't want to have to deal with this annoying girl any longer.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?" the Zabini girl asks, folding her arms. It turns out it's not spelled with an m before the b, as I always though, if the keychain with her name on it is accurate.

I thought we had already established that I don't speak? I roll my eyes and try in vain to sidestep them again. But the stupid airhead will not give it up.

"What's with all the black, Weasly? Going for one of those weird Muggle styles?" This is Parkinson again. She doesn't like having her spotlight stolen from her.

It's called mourning you idiot. And it is true, I have taken a custom to wearing black. All black. My robes, which were already black, my black shoes, my black bag. And then, I died all my clothes black. A bit drastic you might say, but I don't even have that much clothes. Just about two weeks worth of clothes, which are now all black. And that's my entire wardrobe that I took with me from home. Yep, small, I know. It's not that we are that poor, it's just that I've never been much of one for fashion. But now I find that black quite suits how I feel inside. And I like it.

"I heard your brother went and got himself killed for you? Which one was it, oh yeah, the one that spends every waking moment with dragons. Spent, anyway." That was the other Slytherin girl. The one that acts as the third wheel and usually doesn't think for herself. I don't know her name, so I'll just call her Number Three. I can feel my anger rising. These girls really are airheads if they keep pushing it. I'm clenching my fists, trying with all my might to not punch her lights out. Really, I'm trying. Okay, so maybe I am envisioning my fist connecting with her nose. But only a little. Really.

"It's okay, she's got five others," taunts Parkinson. That does it. That's when I snap. I clench my right fist as tight as I can and swing it back. It hits the little blonde right in the jaw. The little ditz falls to the floor holding her jaw and crying.

That's when Number Three approaches me, ready for a fight. Obviously, her place has been established as the bodyguard. From what my brother told me she's a pretty good fighter. Apparently she heard him making fun of her after class one day and had his lights put out. I put my fists up, one blocking my face and one blocking my stomach. I separate my feet the width of my shoulders, intent on holding my ground. She notices that I'm not going to run away. She seems a bit taken aback that I'm not scared of her, even though she's gotta be one and an eighth meters tall and a year older than me and served as a replacement beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Well, I was raised by six older brothers and spent ten of the sixteen years of my life without magic. In that time I learned how to fight dirty. I take that moment of surprise in her eyes to kick at her shin. I don't kick hard enough though, and she doesn't fall over. She throws a punch at my face that I duck just in time. I punch at her stomach clearly in her view, and as she goes to block it, I slam my right fist into her nose. It begins to bleed, making her very angry. She hits me in the right eye before I can block.

I'm momentarily blind from the force of her hit, and I know I will have a black eye in just a few minutes. In that time she kicks me to the floor and jumps on top of me, in the attempts to punch me again. I cover my face with my arm and bring my knee up in her gut, making her roll over. I place my knees on both sides of her and begin to hit her in the jaw repeatedly, trying to ignore the pain in my knuckles, as she pulls my hair.

I hadn't realized it earlier, but the bell has tolled. Students are filing out of the classes. Obviously they have gotten whiff of the fight, for we now have a crowd around us cheering. I feel two strong arms around my middle and I'm being lifted off of the Number Three, thrashing to get back in the fight. The students have stopped cheering and teachers are yelling at them to move to their next classes. I finally stop struggling and am set down. Turning, I'm slightly shocked to see it was Draco Malfoy that pulled me off of his classmate. He is still holding me by the arm, afraid I will try to go back to beating the snot out of the girl. But I'm actually thankful he ended the fight. I was getting tired and wouldn't have been able to hold out much longer.

Snape is running towards me, yelling, his face red. McGonagall as well. They both look shocked and angry at me and the girl. Zabini and Parkinson have disappeared into the crowd. Snape grabs my arm, McGonagall Number Three's, and they drag us off towards Professor Dumbledore's office. I look back at Malfoy and glare. This isn't over between me and him.

I get carted into Dumbledore's office along with the girl (apparently her name is Millicent Bulstrode). Snape throws me in a chair, and McGonagall tries with all her might not to throw Bulstrode, though she couldn't even if she wanted to. Dumbledore is sitting looking tiredly at us. Me, more specifically.

"What happened, Professors?" asks Dumbledore, looking at the two teachers.

"A fight, caused by this one!" Snape yells, pointing at me. "She should be given punishment for the next month. Detention!"

Usually I would argue at the unfairness, but now, I just don't care. They can punish me however they want to, it won't change anything.

"It takes two to tango, Snape." Isn't that a Muggle saying? It sounds somewhat familiar, though I'm not exactly sure what tangoing is. "I highly doubt it was all Miss Weasley's fault," says McGonagall, sticking up for me. Would the lady just let it go? _I don't care._

"Minerva is right, Severus. I'm sure this fight is accounted for on both sides." Dumbledore rubs his eyes tiredly before placing his glasses back on. I feel slightly bad for getting in a fight now, adding more to his heavy load. But only slightly.

"Would you girls care to explain to me what happened?" There is silence. And then, Bulstrode speaks up. Her voice is deep and sounds like gravel.

"She….she…just came and-and attacked me, sir!" I look over at her to see she is crying. She glances at me with a smirk. "Honestly! But…do not be too hard on her…it's not her- her fault that she is crazy."

I'm shocked. She always seemed a bit daft to me, but the hag's actually quite a good actress. I snort quite unladylike. But then again, I guess a lady has never beaten up a Slytherin, much less Bulstrode, before, and still maintained grace. The bloody girl is a cunning actress and liar.

"Miss Weasley, do you have any input on the matter?" Dumbledore asks me, in vain. I merely stare at him, my lips sealed.

"Detention for two weeks for both of you. Separate detentions, I don't want to have to deal with more fighting. You're to be watched by a Prefect who will be told in advance of your punishment and fairly carry it out. The Professors are much too busy right now to watch over your detentions. Miss Bulstrode, you are free to go to the infirmary and then to class. Severus, Minerva, you may leave. Classes will be starting in a few minutes. I would like to talk with Miss Weasley alone, please."

The professors leave rather quickly for their old age. I suppose they don't want to be around the insane girl.

"Miss Weasley, would your brother's death have anything to do with your sudden anger?"

I snort once again. My brother's death has to do with everything. It is the reason I choose not to speak anymore. The reason I can barely eat without getting sick. It's probably the cause of the nightmares as well. But those are a different story.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

No.

"Would you like me to help you in any way?"

Not in the least.

Dumbledore sighs. "What would you like Miss Weasley?"

A solid gold toilet I can dunk Bullstrode's head in. Though that's unlikely. My brother back. Even more so. I just shrug again.

He sighs at my shrug. "You know you can come to me whenever you would like to chat? My door is always open." Sorry, isn't going to happen. "You are dismissed to the infirmary. And then, I would like you to return to class."

I walk out of the door with no intentions of going to the infirmary or to class. The grounds seem like the only calm place, the only peaceful place that I can go now. And besides, I fought for these bruises and scars. I want to keep them.


	4. Dreams

The dreams started just after Charlie's death. Frightening dreams that made me not want to sleep. Dreams of him, the one I had long since forgotten. And now, suddenly, I am having the dream almost once a week. I always wake up sweating and scared until I realized I was just in my bed. And then, I won't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. I now have insomnia to add to my list of problems. All because of him.

It is dark, ever so dark. I am afraid, but beginning to get my bearings. It is hard to not know it isn't real, it all seems so tangible. I can smell the damp ground from the rain. I can feel the walls of buildings on both sides of me. I can hear him whispering, though the sound is so faint I can't understand his words. But not as faint as it had been when the dreams first started. His voice is getting stronger, more definite. The one problem is I can not see. No matter how much I try, everything is a blur. A big, dark blur. I turn around in circles, lost. It is as if I am in a maze in the dead of night. I begin running, like I do every night. Running to get away from his voice, running to get out of darkness, running away from the memory. And then, I trip and fall face first, sliding a few meters. When I pick myself up, I notice my arms are bruised from the wet, hard ground. I wonder where I am, how I got here.

And then I feel it. A long, cool finger traces the back of my neck. The whispering is loud, so loud. As if he is speaking right in my ear. This is new.

I spin around, straining my eyes to see. I can just barely make out a shadowy figure a few feet from me. I can feel his breath on my face, cold like ice. I can smell him, he is so close. It is as if he is really there.

"What do you want!" I scream. My voice sounds different now that I haven't used it for so long.

"You, my powerful little princess. I want you."

I can hear his laughter coming from all around her. I know who he is that controls this dream world. What have I learned about Voldemort? Oh yes, Legilimency. He can communicate through a person's sleep, that's why Harry is learning Occlumency. He can make them see and feel and hear whatever he wants. It's just a dream, I remind herself. It's not real.

"Oh, I'm very much real, precious Ginevra." His finger traces down my cheek. I shiver once in fear. "Admit it. You're terrified. It's okay to be frightened. Everyone is afraid of me, why do you have to be any different? Well, they're afraid of Voldemort, anyway. Many of them haven't met me. And those that have, the ones still alive, anyway, are even more scared."

His finger is tracing down my neck line now. I slap the hand away, and realize with a cold dread how real it felt. I back away, and turn and run again. Run with all my might. I am not going anywhere, I know it is useless, but it is all I can do. I can hear his laughter, the cruel laughter of a sixteen year old boy.

"Ginevra dear, we will meet again."

And then, he let me go. Let me return to the waking world.

I sit bolt upright in bed, gasping. I glance at my knees and elbows in the light of the moon. They have scrapes on them.


	5. Friends

I skip classes yet again today. I can't stand to sit in that stuffy room with Prof. Binns droning on in monotone. How boring. Instead, I make my way out to the lake, my mind intent on taking out my anger on the water. Grabbing a few stones, I hurl them as hard as I can at the still, lifeless water. I take pleasure in seeing them bounce along the surface and then plop into the deep, cold waters of the lake.

"Hey you!" I hear a shout behind me. I turn to see Draco Malfoy standing there. He has changed since last year. His hair is down to his shoulders and no longer slicked back. He has strong, definite cheek bones and his collar bone can be seen through his shirt. He has also grown very tall and muscular according to most of the girls in school. In my silence I have taken to eavesdropping on a few of them, and according to the latest gossip, Malfoy, along with the male Zabini (that would be female bitchy Zabini's brother), is the hottest boy in school. I looked at him. I really don't understand what they saw. As a matter of fact, I can't help but stare at his Adam's Apple as he walks towards me. It sticks out of his neck painfully.

"You should be in cla-"

He stops speaking abruptly when he sees who I am. I notice his Prefect's badge gleaming in the sunlight. Who in their right mind would give _him_ a Prefect's position?

"It's you," he murmurs, staring at me. I would hope it is me and not someone else. I merely go back to throwing rocks in the lake.

"You've got a good throw there," he said, watching me. "A really good throw. I saw the fight. The entire thing. You've got a lot of arm muscle."

Where is he going with this? I will be contemplating throwing _him_ into the lake pretty soon here.

"Those girls had it coming to them. I'm glad you gave them what they deserved." I glance at him, one eyebrow raised. Was it not his fellow Slytherin and friend I beat the snot out of? Which I am quite proud of doing so, if I may say so myself.

The boy merely stares back at me, unnerved by my gaze. "What do you want?" I ask quietly. I am a bit surprised myself that I actually said it. But hearing my own voice again is nice for a change. It's gotten all croaky after not using it in so long. And my pitch is so indefinite you could barely hear it. Merlin, I have forgotten how to speak.

Draco Malfoy seemed just as surprised by this sudden change in behavior. "You just said something!" Thank you Captain Obvious. "You just spoke to me! You don't speak to anybody, not even your family…why did you speak to me?" He seemed excited and puzzled by this new discovery.

"I don't know, why are you speaking to me?" I retort.

"I suppose, because you interest me," he says, picking up some rocks.

"How so?" I inquire, watching as he skipped a smooth, brown stone across the water. All of this talking is beginning to hurt my throat.

"Well, one," he took a breath, as if readying himself, "I find you extremely attractive." I roll my eyes. The response seems to surprise him again. "But, it's not just that. I find you…intriguing. How you suffered so much, and yet you still live. You still keep going everyday. How hard it must be. I've never lost a dear one, but I'm sure I couldn't take it nearly as well as you do."

I snort. He calls this taking it well?

"I suppose I want to be your friend," he says, throwing another rock.

"Why?" I ask, wide eyed, before I could stop myself. I turn away so he doesn't see my expression and throw a rock, harder and farther than his. It plops gracefully into the water a few feet past where his had.

"Because, I want to help you," he says, throwing another. His rock lands just past where mine had, the ripples reaching out like fingers through the lake. Its easier to talk when we don't have to look at each other, I realize. I steal a glance at his face and see how nerve racked he is.

"I don't need your help." I feel my anger rising in my gut, and throw yet another rock to release. I wouldn't want to punch him like I did Bulstrode and ruin his pretty face. Not that I find it attractive, but then I would have the entire female population in Hogwarts trying to kill me.

"Well, maybe I also want your help. I may not have experienced anything near as dramatic as you have, but I have had my fair share of problems. We all have. Maybe, I want a friend." He looks at me, his eyes filled with pain. I notice a large cut above his left eyebrow. Some others on his arms.

"Why don't you go to your Slytherin friends?" I ask. My voice is deathly cold and oddly bitter as I spit out the hateful words.

"Maybe because they all want to be Death Eaters," he says, throwing another rock into the water. It lands past mine. Unacceptable. "What would my job resumes look like? 'Formerly a Death Eater: killed innocent people and tortured cute little puppies for a living.'"

I hurl yet another rock with all my might, out past his. This little game is beginning to be fun. "Left children to hold their dying siblings."

"Beat seventeen year olds into submission," he chucks his even harder. It barely lands past mine. That will be hard to beat.

"Tried to suck the life out of them like a parasite." Mine falls just centimeters past his, barely. I look at his hands. Empty. He has no more rocks. "Ha! Out of ammunition! I win!" I yell triumphantly. I glance at his face, but he is silently staring at me. A large, handsome grin spreads across his face. Not quite a smile, but not a smirk. More like a look of triumph.

"Yes, but I got you to smile," he said, bringing his hand to my cheek. I turned away.

"Did not," I murmur, realizing my voice sounds much like a child's.

"Did too," Malfoy taunts, in a singsong voice. "I made you smile! I made you smile!"

He is jumping around doing a ridiculous victory dance and looking like a fool. I try with all my might not to laugh. A few muffled giggles escape me.

"Ha! I heard that!"

My lips turn upwards against my will. I reach out to smack him playfully on the arm, when he grabs the back of my hand. His hands are large and warm. Like Charlie's. "So, friends?" he asks.

I gaze at him skeptically. "I don't see why not."

The boy grins and shakes the hand he is holding awkwardly. It is hard not to return his smile.


	6. Bruises

"You said you had problems like mine," I say, staring at my feet. "What did you mean?"

Draco looks at me. He stills seems surprised when I speak, which isn't often. Even though we have come to a truce, we haven't really talked about our pasts.

"Why do you ask?" he questions me. I merely shrug. I suppose you could say I'm curious of him. We often write each other using his eagle owl. But we rarely have time to talk. I suppose also I'm looking for something in him. Something I can trust. Someone who can understand me. I want so badly to open up to someone, no matter who, but I am afraid to trust him. Afraid of what, I'm not sure. That he will try to analyze me, get me to change, to be someone I'm not. He hasn't pushed me to talk with him. To tell him anything. I'm not sure why. He just seems to sit and watch me more often than not. For what, I'm not sure.

"My father, Lucius, wants me to be a Death Eater. I don't want to. I don't know what I want really. To fight for Dumbledore. Or to go back, begging, to the Death Eaters. To where I'm protected."

"Why do we have to choose a certain side?" I ask.

I stare at the tile floor. It's my third day of detention for the fight. I was surprised to find Draco was watching over my detention, but also a bit relieved. At least it wasn't the Zabini boy, who has been bothering me since I punched his little sister. He often trips me in the hallways or pushes me walking past. Sometimes he stops and begins insulting me, but this is the usual snide remarks about being poor and a Muggle lover.

The first two days had been a bit awkward. Draco had tried desperately to get me to speak with him, but when I wouldn't he seemed peeved. He thought that by this truce I would begin to open up to him, but like I said earlier, I'm still a bit too afraid to open up to him or anyone for that matter. So, Draco talked. He talked a lot to fill my silence. It was a bit annoying really. Sometimes I wish he would just shut up. But, alas, I'm stuck in detention with him, and unless I answer him, I have to stand listening to his one sided conversations with me for the next, oh, week. By which then he will probably think we are mates or something. Which we aren't. I really only said that at the time because I was feeling lonely and pitiful. Now I am definitely sorry I didn't keep my trap shut. Literally.

"I agree. But I'm not safe if I'm not siding with the Death Eaters. The Order could give me protection for a time if I fought for them, but how long would that last? The Order is going to be trampled in this war. They may win, but they will be broken along with all the ones fighting for them. Pretty soon people are going to be siding up for one side or the other. But in the end, it will be a bloody war. I've seen the Death Eater army. They are strong and they have dark magic. It's been used on me."

I look at him, my face filled with shock. Used on him? They used dark magic on there own people? Draco seems to read my thoughts. He is fairly good at reading my face, the expressions on it, so I didn't have to speak as much.

"Yep, when my father would get angry with me, he would beat me. With magic or by hand. Especially when I never gave him an answer as to whether or not I was joining the Death Eaters. Of my own will anyway. But if you don't do things the easy way for them, they'll find a way to make you do it the hard way."

Beat him. His own blood beat him. His own father beat him. And used dark magic on him.

"I've got some scars, wanna see?" Draco asked, looking like an expectant child. Or a puppy about to get a treat. Honestly, his father beats him and he acts like the scars are cool. Boys.

I shrug in response as I continue to get cobwebs out of the corners of the ceiling. Honestly. Cleaning. You think Snape could come up with something a little more creative. Though, the room really does need a cleaning. There are weird stains on the floor from spilled potions and it smells like moth balls and mildew and something nasty from the potion brewing in the corner. What the man really needs is a fire though. It's as cold as ice down here. And yet the crazy boy is taking off his shirt.

Draco pulls the green, silk shirt over his head and tosses it to the side like it's nothing. Go ahead and brag why don't you? I stare at his chest in surprise. There are cuts and bruises everywhere. Most of them are healing, but it's as if they have been magicked to heal painfully slowly. He has a purple bruise on his left ribs. Short, deep cuts are everywhere on his back. It looks like it's from a whip. Nail marks are dug into his chest under his left shoulder. I can even see little patches of burned skin, like someone used him as a cigar tray.

"Draco," I whisper, dumbfounded. Who would do this to another human being? Who would inflict such pain upon their own flesh and blood? I walk up to him slowly and touch the large purple bruise. He flinches and grabs my hand. "Careful, that one still hurts." I nod and touch it lightly with my hand. "Did he punch you?" I whisper, absorbed in each and every cut.

"Oh, he did a lot of things. Kicked me, whipped me, burned me with lit cigars. He even broke my arm a few times and a few ribs. Even used the Cruciatus once or twice."

Draco was nonchalant, as if he didn't care. He shrugged, but I took the time to notice the slight flinch in his eyes from doing so.

"When did this start?" I ask, rage filling me.

"Last year. When I began to be disobedient. To speak out. Break the rules and not agree with what the Death Eaters were doing."

"Draco, this is...this is illegal. This is child abuse."

He laughs. I know now how much it hurts him to do so with the bruised ribs, but he still forces it out. "You think that's going to stop them? You think they care about what is legal or not? Ginny, they're _Death Eaters_. They...they kill people. Voldemort kills anyone that disobeys him, even over the smallest thing. You're lucky if he only beats you to a pulp. They rape women and girls. They live off of making others fear them. They're terrorists." By now his voice has raised until it is filled with anger. He takes a few deep breaths and begins to talk in a calmer, lower voice. "They have no remorse. No grief. They aren't human. How could they be? How could anyone like that be human?"

I look up from the bruise into his eyes. He is saying everything that I have been feeling for the last two months. Everything. How could those horrible people be human? How can they not regret killing? How can they go and tear apart people like that? Break them? I'm slightly shocked at what I see. Draco's eyes are wet, small, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. Is he crying?

"Ginny, I have to tell you something. Before we go on being friends. Before everything. So you can trust me…and so I can trust you. Ginny, I can't stand my father. I hate him with every fiber of my being. And Ginny...he is the one...the one that killed your brother."

I feel the breath leave me as if I have been punched. Lucius Malfoy was the one who killed my brother? I feel rage and sadness at the same time. But more of rage. Draco Malfoy tried to get me to trust him, to be his mate. He didn't even bother to tell me until now that his father murdered my brother in cold blood.

I glared up at him. How dare he? How dare he try to win my trust? "How do you know?" I ask, coldly. I pull my hand away from his chest. "How!" I yell. I'm not sure if I want proof that he did or if I want to prove that he didn't.

"I saw the blood on his sword. On him. He was gone that night. I listened in on him the next day as he spoke with some friends. He bragged about it. But Ginny, that's not it! There is something else that I need to tell you-"

I slap him. Hard across the face leaving a giant, red hand print. "Never talk to me again!" I yell, as I run out of the room. I can hear him getting off the table and calling after me, but I don't stop. Whatever else he wants to say, he can forget about it.


	7. Detentions

The boy won't give it up! Every corner I turn he is there, waiting. Every time I see him in the hallways he tries to get my attention. Luckily I can get away from him there. Even during meals, his fancy eagle owl bugs me to no end to make me take the letter from him. I throw them away without looking at them, but still he persists. Yes, that vermin who's father killed my brother is still trying to talk to me. For the past week I have been trying to avoid the boy.

I am having a particular bad day today. Snape yelled at me for zoning out during classes. The stupid Slytherins we had potions with kept smirking and trying to get me in more trouble. It especially didn't do me any good when I finally snapped and threw my best quill at him, getting ink all over his robes, before storming out of the room. Luckily the slimy haired proff didn't follow me, or I would have punched him. Maybe even hexed him. I'm not short of using the killing curse if I have to.

I shudder. Did I really just think that? I shake my head to clear it. "Stop thinking those thoughts or you're going to end up like Voldemort." I whisper to myself. I need sleep. Last night it was storming. I sat huddled under blankets with my curtains drawn tight around my bed. I yelped every time a flash of lightning struck. By the time I finally got to sleep I dreamed about it again. I was in the maze of buildings again. Running. I could hear footsteps chasing me. I could hear his horrible laughter all around me. I slam my fist against a wall. How dare he! How dare he control my dreams! He has no right to! I take a claming breath. The dreams, they seem so...It just seems as if he is real. I have to remind myself countless times that he is not. I have to remember that Tom Riddle was killed in the Chamber. But it is so hard sometimes.

Besides being groggy and probably earning myself about a hundred more detentions (I've been avoiding Snape in the halls) I have my final detention tonight. With Draco Malfoy. After my first three detentions Malfoy had duty, so other prefects would substitute the other detentions. Now, just when I think I'm home free, I have to have my final one with him. If he says one word to me I will make sure he can not have children.

I walk into the Transfiguration classroom. Draco Malfoy is already there. He is sitting in the middle of the room, his feet up on a desk and his chair leaning back so far the front feet are off of the floor a few inches. McGonagall is bustling about looking for something or other frantically. She looks up when I come in.

"Ms. Weasley!" she says, her voice unusually chipper. "I'm just looking for my purse and then I have to go. Aha!" she says, straightening, purse in hand. "I've already informed Mr. Malfoy that you are to sort through these tests and grade them with my grading sheets. Don't worry about the essays I will grade those myself. Okay?" Her voice is slightly squeaky and she looks flustered. I merely stare at her, my face emotionless. And she fidgets! Merlin, is this woman afraid of me?

"Well, I'll be off! Have fun!" she says, and rushes out the door. Have fun? Did she seriously just say that?

I get to grading the papers. Malfoy still hasn't spoken, thank Merlin. It's been at least half an hour, and all he's done is stare at me. It's so unnerving I just want to scream at him. I try to ignore him, but I can't help but fidget as his gaze pounds into my back. "What," I say, slamming the paper's on the desk and turning towards him, "are you staring at!"

His face is emotionless. He lifts his feet off of the desk and onto the floor and stands up, sauntering towards me. Yes, sauntering. It looks as if he's practiced it, too. Sauntering. He is slow and lazy as he walks towards me, swaying only slightly.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asks, his face inches from mine.

"No. We are not talking about this. It is quite obvious why I am avoiding you, Malfoy. I am _not_ having this conversation with you."

I turn to walk away from him when he grabs my arm. Hard. He yanks me back to the desk and places his hands on both sides of my body, trapping me. "Yes, you are! You will not walk away again! Ginny, this is important."

I sit on the desk and stare at him silently. "Your father _killed_ my brother! You are related to that murdering bastard. And then you try to be friends with me! You betrayed my trust. What did you want, huh? An easy shag? What did you say to yourself: Let's all go try to get the psycho Weasley girl in the sack! She should be fun for the night!" I was yelling now, anger taking over me. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "First your father gives me the diary and then he kills my brother right in front of my eyes. What more do you want from me?"

Draco's eyes only show hurt. "Ginny, do you not think that for every person he has hurt I don't loathe him even more? Ginny, he _beats_ me. He hits my mother. He kills people. And he wants me to join him. Ginny, you think I want to be related to him? He never once told me he loved me. Never. Ginny, I don't want to be him. I don't want to hurt others. I need help. I need a friend. I want _you_ to be my friend, Gin. I know how much he hurt you, and want to make up for it. I want you to see that I'm not like him. I want you to understand me," he says, taking my hand. I have never felt so lonely in my life. I want to grab him and cry into his shoulder. I want to tell him everything. I want him to be there for me.

"I want a friend too," I say, and throw my arms around him. He is warm and I can feel his muscles through his shirt. I think back to when he took his shirt off a few days ago and showed me all those bruises and cuts. I wasn't thinking about it then, but he has a really nice chest. Toned and muscular. I feel my face heat up. I let him go and keep my head down so he can't see me blushing. That would be the perfect thing to ruin this friendship if he thought I had a crush on him.

"Let me help you grade those papers," he says, and sits on the floor with a pile of tests in front of him.


	8. Threats

"What's that?" Draco asks, gazing at my necklace. We are in an empty classroom on the second floor. We stumbled upon it one night when we were out doing nothing, as usual. It's been about a month since we became friends. Draco is great company I've come to find. We both are often lonely and bored, so we spend at least every other day together. Where I'm quiet and isolated, Draco is loud and talkative. He's funny, always cracking jokes and making a fool out of himself. The bruise on his chest is almost healed, and most of the scars have become faint, white lines. He often covers up pain with humor, I've come to realize. I've realized a lot about Draco. We spend so much time together I know him as if we've been friends for years. His eyes are silver and he loves dragons, just like my brother did. Draco told me his name means Dragon in Latin. If you asked I could tell you his favorite food, color, flower (yes flower, who knew Draco was a romantic? I think it's kinda cute) and pastime. By the way, they're chicken pot pie, green (of course), rose, and Quidditch. Draco, like me, has zilch as far as friends and no loving family to speak of. I never had friends and don't talk to anyone, not even my loving family. So, we are a perfect couple.

I can feel my face heating up. I SO did not mean it like that. Draco and I are just friends, albeit close friends, but still just friends.

"Umm, Ginny?" he says, startling me. I jump and glance at him. Draco still seems a little confused when I zone out, but he deals with it well enough. "I was asking you about your necklace," He says, looking at my throat area. Is it wrong if that makes me blush?

I look down to see my necklace hanging over my shirt. "I'm sorry," I whisper, "I thought I had it tucked in under my shirt."

"Hey, don't apologize!" he smiles, dimples forming in his cheeks and his white, straight teeth gleaming. Or maybe it's his eyes that seem to gleam when he smiles, lighting up the whole room. "I was wondering what it was."

I look back at my necklace, at the little dragon woven around the fairy's arm. "It's a pendant. A fairy and a dragon. It's made from metal scourged by dragon's breath. It will never rust nor fall apart."

"Cool, I heard that kinda metal lasts forever," he says.

I look up at him. My throat is tight and I'm trying as hard as I can to hold back tears. "My brother...gave it to me."

"Oh," it's funny how immediately he knows which brother I'm talking about. Draco understands me like that. He can read my face. He knows all my emotions. He's even learned how to make me smile.

"The night that he died," I whisper, fingering the dragon.

"Oh," he says, his voice even more grave. I stare at the floor, which is pretty easy considering I'm laying on my belly on it. The little room is used for storage now. Upon finding it we explored the boxes and cabinets. We found a few extra blankets from the hospital wing and some pillows and big, plastic round bags filled with beans that were quite comfortable to sit on. We found some old textbooks and library research books, and used them to come and study together every other night. We pulled up an old desk and chair to study at. Throwing the blankets and pillows and beanbags, as Draco called them, on the floor we could sit and talk or study. Or, as I had found quite interesting and fun once I learned how to use it, listen to the Muggle radio in the room that only got about one or two stations. From what Draco said it had to be magicked because nothing Muggle worked on school property.

I feel Draco's hand on my mid back. Glancing down at me, he smiles slowly. It isn't wide enough to show his teeth, but I can still see the little dimples. "I like it, you should wear it out," he says.

"Maybe," I whisper, shrugging. His hand is still on my back. I can feel my body getting hot from where it rests. Does he have any clue how much he affects me? But I won't tell him. I'm too afraid to scare him away.

The bell tolls. Our study period is over. We both jump up and pack our bags quickly. I have five minutes to get outside for Herbology, so I had better hurry. Draco and I say goodbye and I run towards the Greenhouses. I'm almost to the front doors when I see Blaise Zabini. Oh, please just leave me alone this time. Unfortunately, he sees me and begins to walk over towards me. He smirk is like an animal about to catch it's prey. He steps in front of me and grabs my arm.

"I hear it was you the Death Eaters were looking for the night your brother died." Draco had said the same thing to me, only with concern in his voice. He had overheard from his father that I had been the target of that attack. Of course, I had already known this, but neither of us knew for what reason. It had irked me, but I knew I was safe in Hogwarts. "You had better watch your back. Voldemort has his people _every_where." Zabini lets go of my arm and walks away. Now, I'm beginning to wonder just how safe I am within the Hogwarts' walls.


	9. Storms

The thunder shakes the ground as I run. I am lost, again, in this nightmare. It begins to rain, soaking my clothes and hair. Lightning strikes, lighting the entire world. For the first time I can0 see where I'm at. See the walls of the maze around me. They are not little shops and I am not on a street as I once thought. They are just walls. Solid three meter high walls that stretch on endlessly, except where they are intercepted by other walls at a corner. I can hear the laughing as darkness envelops me again. I am crying, why not cry? It is just a nightmare after all. Or is it a dream anymore? The scrapes on my hands and knees. I vividly remembered getting them in a dream. _Stop this nonsense. You probably got them in that fight_.

"Is that what you think, little Ginny?" asks a voice that comes from everywhere. That cold, cruel voice.

"Go away!" I scream at him. "Get out of my dream! Leave me alone!"

"Do you think none of this is real, then, Ginny? Don't you think I can manifest your nightmares into reality? For I certainly can." His haunting voice taunts me. It sounds as if it is directly behind me. I do not want to turn, do not want to see him behind me. For that will make him real, and I do not want him to be real. But I find myself turning, despite every fiber of my being telling me not to, just as a flash of lightning illuminates his face. The sharp nose and chin. The old fashioned hair cut and the Hogwart's uniform from the forties. The black hair and sharp, black eyes that saw, that still see, everything. There is no doubt about it in my mind, it is him. The light is quickly gone, leaving me alone with him in the dark. I can't see him but I can feel his cool breath on my face. I turn and run, despite his hand reaching out to catch my hair. I flee, making sharp corners whenever I can. I sprint through the endless maze until my body collides with something hard and unyielding, throwing me to the ground. Looking up, I see the looming shadow of a wall before me.

"Dead end, Ginevra," he says, using my real name. I stand up and place my back against the wall. Even though I know I am trapped, I search the wall at my back for some lever, some hole, some escape. "Did you really think you could run? I control these dreams. Have you ever heard of Occlumency? I created this whole place. While you are asleep, I have power little Ginny. I can change it with a SNAP-" Instantly the scenery changes. I am in the Chamber of Secrets. "-of my fingers. I can even change my own appearance." Again Tom Riddle snaps his fingers, I can see him in the torchlight, and before me stands my brother Charlie. I shut my eyes against the image.

"Stop!" I yell, tears trailing down my cheeks. He snaps yet again. Thin, long, cold fingers grabbed at my chin and yank my face up.

"Open your eyes," says an old, but still cruel, voice. I look up and into the red, slanted, nightmarish eyes of Voldemort. I can see the bones in his thin, pale face. His bald head is shiny and disfigured and his fingers like a skeleton's.

"Tom Riddle isn't alive yet, but when I get you, he will be."

With that he disappears.

I sat up, gasping. I heard a loud Crack! and a deep rumble that shook my bed. I looked at my clothes. They were dry of any rain. The scrapes must have really been from the fight, or else I would be soaked like in my dream. I closed my eyes as yet another bright burst of lightning lit up the room. I had to talk to Draco. Had to hear his voice and feel him hug me. I put on a cloak over my nightgown and stuck my wand in my pocket. Stepping lightly, I walked towards the Owlry. Luckily, I wasn't caught. Filch must've been sleeping for once. I stepped into the owlry and walked towards a little brown barn owl. She particularly like me, and I hoped to convince her to go out in the rain to send Draco a message.

"Hey girl," I said quietly, waking her. I stroked her neck and she hooted in pleasure. "I know it's rainy outside, but will you take a message for me? It's urgent."

I felt another loud boom and ducked under the table in a ball. After a few minutes I fot back up again and found a spare peace of parchment and used one of the quills on the desk to write a letter.

Draco,

Meet me in the classroom, please. I'll be there waiting for you.

I tie the letter to her leg and she reluctantly soars out the door after being bribed with some treats I had brought with me. I am thankful that the classroom was nearby to the owlry. Hopefully I won't run into Filch or his cat. I walk slowly, my feet making little sound on the marble floors. Finding the room, I step in and curl up in one of the bean bags. I hope he comes soon. I shudder with another strike of lightning. The rain begins to pour harder. That poor owl. I hope she is all right. I curl into a ball. I'm not worried about falling asleep. After that nightmare, I don't believe I will be able to sleep for weeks. Finally, the door creaks open. I see a figure standing the doorway with his wand lit. Draco's face looks at me, confused. He sees my frightened eyes and walks over to me, concerned. Kneeling down, he places his hand on my arm.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" he asks.

"Did the owl get back okay?" I whisper.

"I took her back to the owlry myself, that way she wouldn't have to fly in the rain. I'm sorry I took so long. What's wrong?"

I look up at him. "He is in my dreams again," I sob. I'm trying with all my might o hold the tears back.

"Who is?" he asks.

"Voldemort," I whisper. "He started haunting my dreams after my brother's death. I will be in a maze and he is all around. He threatened me this time. He said when he got me he would bring Tom back."

"Tom?" Draco asks, confused. "You mean, Tom Riddle? You mean from the Chamber of Secrets?" I can feel his anger rising. I don't know how, I can just feel it. "We're going to tell Dumbledore," he stands up, intent on barging into Dumbledore's office.

"Wait!" I say, distraught. "It could all just be a dream! A figment of my imagination! We could be coming to him with nothing but a silly nightmare."

"Ginny, in every story the person threatened never tells, and they always end up gtting kidnapped! I mean, come on! He was after you that night was he not! That's the reason your brother died, protecting you! And now you get these dreams! And then Zambini tells you to watch your back! Do we need any more proof?"

I feel my chest get tight when he says that about my brother. He died protecting you. A tear spills down my cheek. Draco stops pacing and looks over at me, realization on his face.

"Ginny, I-"

I break down. I start crying. The dam has overflowed and is flooding everything.

"He died….protecting me. It wasn't even……worth it!" I begin to sob, unable to control it now. My body is being jolted with the force of the sobs. My chest hurts from trying to breathe. I collapse, falling to the floor, and Draco catches me. He pulls my body against his and wraps his arms around me.

"That's not true," he whispers in my ear. "Ginny, you are the most amazing person in the world. Of course he would die for you, any one would. I would die for you in a heartbeat, Gin."

I can feel his shirt getting wet under my face. I'm sure there is snot everywhere, but he just continues to rock me.

"Why! Why did he have to go? Why did he have to die?" I ask, my voice high. "Why didn't he hide in the bathroom with me?"

"I don't know, Gin. I guess that's just how much he loved you. I guess he would do anything, even be a human wall between them and you."

"But he's gone! Forever!"

Draco stops rocking me. He holds me out at arm's length. "I've never been much of a Christian, but I do believe in God. And I know that when a person dies they are not gone forever. I'm sure he is smelling down at you from Heaven right now Ginny. And he wouldn't want you to be sad. Your brother would want you to be happy. To go on living your life."

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes," he says, hugging me again. "Tommorrow, we will go to Dumbledore and tell him everything. Tonight, you need to go back to sleep."

"Wait!" I say, not wanting to leave. "I'm scared."

"Of what?" he asks. I feel like a child, about to tell him that I'm afraid of storms. I blush, and look at my hands. Draco lifts my chin so that we are eyes to eye.

"I-I'm afraid of storms. It was stormy that night. The night he died. I can't sleep if it's storming. Especially after that nightmare I had."

Draco smiles and grabs a box of tissues. I blow my nose and wipe my eyes dry. He makes a little bed out of the blankets and pillows and lies down. My face is hot as I lie in his arms. They're warm and I can feel his chest through his shirt. And I feel safe. Safer than I've ever felt in my life. And I know that Draco will protect me. That he will die for me.


	10. Dumbledore

I follow Draco to the Headmaster's office. I can't believe we are actually telling Dumbledore about my dreams. As if it isn't embarrassing enough, now I have to say everything I saw. This breaks my code of not speaking. We come to the Gargoyle; the last time I was here was after the fight. The time before that was when Harry saved me from the Chamber. And now I'm back to once again talk about Tom Riddle. Draco glances at me, one elegant eyebrow raised. He has such perfect, thin eyebrows. I shake the thought away.

"I forgot about the whole password thing," Draco says to me, looking back at the gargoyle. "I guess it can't hurt to guess. Lemon Drops."

Nothing happens. "Licorice wand," I say. Everyone knows of the Headmaster's obsession with sweets. Still nothing happens.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans."

"Chocolate Frogs. Ugh! It's not working! Let's just leave," I say, but a voice stops me mid-turn.

"Ms. Weasley? Mr. Malfoy? In front of my office? Not fighting?" says an old, throaty voice. I turn to see the Headmaster standing before us, the gargoyle slowly turning and closing again on the spinning staircase.

"What do I have to give for this pleasure," he says, his eyes twinkling.

Draco glances at me sideways. "We would like to talk to you in private, sir."

"We? Have you two come to some kind of a relationship?"

"We're friends, yes Headmaster. But that's not what we came here to talk about-"

"Ah! Interhouse relationship. I'm very proud of the two of you. And a Slytherin and Gryffindor friendship, no less. Well, com in, come in. I was just about to go to breakfast, but it can wait. Snowcaps!"

'Snowcaps?', I mouth to Draco.

'Muggle candy', he mouths back.

I'm lucky to have a friend that took Muggle studies. Even with my dad working in the field of Muggle objects, I never knew much about how they lived. Talking to Draco about it made me feel stupid. Then again, anytime I talked to Draco I felt stupid or naïve. Draco is so smart and funny. He knows so much more about the world than I do. I didn't even know anything past the Burrow and Hogwarts before I met him. I had never ventured out into the Muggle for more than a few minutes and never alone. And Draco surpasses me in just Muggle studies. He is skilled at flying and talking to people, even if he only has me for a friend. And that's just because he didn't want to be friends with Slytherins, and nobody from other Houses trusted him. Besides me, of course.

We have arrived to Dumbledore's office. He holds the door for Draco and I, and of course Draco lets me go through first. He is always a gentlemen, also making me feel somewhat lowly compared to him. No matter how much Draco hates his home life, he still grew up rich and with manners.

"Sit, sit," says Dumbledore, who has been rambling for the past five minutes. He is a very energetic old man, and seeing a Slytherin and Gryffindor are friends, he seems even more giddy than usual. "So, why have my students come to me today?" he asks, lifting his blue eyes to look at Draco and I. His hands are folded on his desk and his back is straight, though he is leaning forwards slightly. This place is making me uncomfortable as I remember what it was like to be in here five years ago.

"Ginny isn't safe sir!" blurts out Draco, as if he has been holding it in all this time.

"And why do you say that Mr. Malfoy?" asks Dumbledore, his face slightly scrunched in question.

"When the Burrow was attacked the Death Eaters were looking for her. Her brother was fending them off of her when..." he glances at me and I divert my eyes, keeping my face emotionless. I don't want to think about that and start crying in front of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who already thinks I'm a psycho after being brought in for fighting, not to mention not talking to anyone for months.

"As you were saying?" says Dumbledore, to help lighten the atmosphere.

"Ginny has been having nightmares ever since about Tom Riddle. Last night..."

"Last night 'Tom Riddle' revealed himself to really be Voldemort. He's been haunting my dreams to scare me. Something or other about Occlumency. He gave me some kind of cryptic warning about using me to bring back Tom Riddle, the younger one, that is." My voice is monotone as I say this all very quickly. I glance up from the floor to Dumbledore, who has been holding a snow globe that was sitting on his desk. He does not seem shocked by this odd news, but then again, nothing seems to surprise the old man.

"Miss Weasley. I haven't heard your voice in a long while," he finally says, as if afraid to keep me from talking again. "I am happy to hear you speaking again."

"He's after me, Headmaster. To bring Tom Riddle back into the world."

"But Ms. Weasley, Voldemort _is_ Tom Riddle," Dumbledore says.

"No! No, he isn't! Everyone thinks he is, but he isn't! Tom Riddle is younger, crueler, more powerful, and perhaps even smarter than Voldemort. He spent at least sixty years trapped in a diary where he did nothing but read books from the school library that was trapped in their along with his memory. He practiced and perfected his magic. He is young and powerful and as wise as Voldemort, but he has the emotional stability of a sixteen year old boy! He doesn't understand not being cruel and he is every ounce as hormonal as any teenage boy, mind you, perhaps more because he hasn't gotten any for the last sixty years!" I feel myself turn a deep red and realize that I was standing and yelling and ranting. I sit down quickly and lower my head so that Dumbledore can not see my eyes. I can feel silent, small tears dripping down my face.

"We have to protect her sir," says Draco quietly.

"I will do what I can," I hear Dumbledore answer. "For now I assure you, you are safe within the Hogwart's walls, Miss Weasley."

I nod and stand up. Turning, I flee the room.


	11. Costumes and Confrontations

"There's a ball in a few days, for Halloween," says Draco, pointing to a leaflet on the bulletin board in front of the Great Hall.

"So what?" I retort.

"So, I think we should go to it. We can get our costumes today since it's a Hogsmeade day."

"Are you insane?" I gasp. I stare into both his eyes to make sure they aren't overly dilated. "Us? Going to a ball? Together? Do you know the havoc that would create? Not to mention, if you haven't noticed Draco I'm not much a social person." He snorts.

"Ginny, that is the understatement of the year," he says, chuckling. I chuck my bag at his head but he grabs it. Damn good reflexes.

"Balls just aren't my thing, Draco," I say.

"C'mon Ginny! I think it would be fun!" he is whining now.

"Ugh! If it will get you to shut up!" I say, grinning. "But you're paying for the costumes."

"No problem, I have the perfect thing in mind," Draco begins to rush me out the door with his arm around my shoulder, making me turn beet red. There's nothing abnormal about that, right? I mean, when your friend merely puts his arm around you and you're suddenly as bright as a tomato? Absolutely nothing.

We laugh our way to Hogsmeade. I don't think I've ever been more content.

"Here you go, darling," says the costume shop owner, Mrs. Ramirez. She's Spanish and has one of those rich, creepy accents you would only find in a vampire. She hands me an outfit through the dressing room, and I put it on reluctantly. Sliding open the curtains I look at Draco expectantly.

"Well, what do you think?" I whisper so only Draco can hear me, spinning. He doesn't say anything.

"Marvelous!" says Mrs. Ramirez. "Just look, the boy is speechless. He's drooling. You should see the jaws dropping in my shop."

And I can't deny it, she's right. Draco is speechless and many boys that were looking around the shop have stopped what they were doing to stare at me. I can see their dates glaring holes into the outfit. I turn to look into the full length mirror. Oh Merlin.

The skirt is really short, above my knees, and it flares out like a too-too. The matching blouse and skirt are a light green color, calming down the red hair. My legs, which are pretty big along with my butt, actually look okay in the skirt. And the tight top shows a little cleavage, but not a whole lot. But what really grabs the attention are the giant, sparkling fairy wings on my back. They are huge and a swirl of purple, green, blue, and yellow. The colors are moving and swirling, making me dizzy so I have to look away.

I turn back to Draco and smile. "I think I'll buy it," he says in a monotone, still staring at me. I change back into my clothes while he pays for it and we leave the store to walk around Hogsmeade.

"Come on! Let me see yours Draco!" I beg, trying to peek in the bag he is carrying. Draco refused to show me his costume after he tried it on.

"No. It's a surprise," he murmurs.

"But that's not fair," I whine, jogging to keep up with his long strides. Why does the boy have to be so tall? We're walking in a more remote part of Hogsmeade towards a little ice cream parlor that doesn't usually get much attention, allowing me to feel free to talk. "I modeled mine for you."

"And you looked very beautiful in it," he says, with a grin. That damn grin again, the one that always makes me feel all weak in the knees. I blush at his comment and try to change the subject.

"Can't I _please_ see it?" I ask, begging.

He shakes his head. I sigh, and then get a genius plan. Who says I can't take it from him? I grin to myself and look at him. He's humming slightly and staring ahead, lost in his own little world. Probably thinking of Quidditch.

I reach around his back, trying to be careful not to brush up against him and grasp at the shopping bag in his hand.

"Hey!" he exclaims, realizing what I'm doing. I pounce towards the bag, and just as I'm about to grab it he lifts it over my head.

"Wha-" I say, glaring at him. "That's not fair!" I yell. He's grinning like a Cheshire cat as he holds the bag over my head while I continue, in vain to grab it. I'm starting to feel like a cat playing with a little kid who keeps taking the yarn just out of reach. Just as I almost get it in my hands, Draco grabs my hands in his, smirking. I try to pull away but he pulls me up to his chest. I feel my breath getting short as he gazes down at my face, his cool breath on my cheek. I close my eyes, expecting what? I'm not sure. A kiss maybe. Yes, a kiss would be nice. But alas, somebody has to come ruin it.

"Well well well. It looks like little Ginny's got herself a boyfriend. I can't blame you Malfoy, the girl is pretty hot," says a silky voice behind us. I turn to see Blaise Zabini standing behind us. Two other Slytherin boys are there also. Along with, who else, the trio from a few weeks ago, which I clearly remember beating up the body guard of, Bulstrode. I back away from Draco and stand beside him, my eyes on the stone pathway as my face turns red. But not with anger.

"I'd bet she is a tomcat in the sack," says another boy, grinning nastily. I feel like I will puke as I stand silent, being berated and insulted.

"Shut…up…" says Draco slowly. I can feel the heat coming off of him. I look up into his eyes and see anger and protection for me. Draco really cares about me this much? Even in the midst of his former peers he still defends me? I feel a slow smile creep up on my face.

"Well, where she exceeds in beauty, she lacks in sanity. That girl is psycho, she doesn't talk and she goes around beating up innocent young girls," says Parkinson.

Innocent. I snort. She is just as innocent as I am, after the death I've seen.

"Oh, did you say something Weasley?" asked Zabini, the male one this time. "Oh that's right, you cut out your own tongue. Or so I heard last. Mind you, it was my sister you hit, and your going to pay for it," he says, stepping towards me threateningly.

"I don't think so," says Draco, taking out his wand and also stepping forward. Oh no.

"Draco, don't," I whisper, placing my hand on his arm.

"So the little whore can talk can she?" asks the Bulstrode girl. I tighten my grip on his arm, whether to keep myself or him from pummeling her, I'm not sure.

"Wow, it's been so long Weasley, I'm surprised you know how to speak," taunts Blaise Zabini.

I hear Draco growl deep in his throat, his body stiffen, ready to lunge.

"Draco!" I whisper in his ear. "Let's just go! We don't need a fight right now. Come on," I murmur, pulling him safely away from the Zabini Hexing Range.

"Just remember Weasellette, Tom still remembers you even after all this time." I feel my grip tighten on Draco's arm as I hear them walk away. I shut my eyes tightly, my breath coming raggedly, the world feeling as if it is spinning. He puts his hand on my back and his head on top of mine, protectively.

"They aren't going to lay a finger on you as long as I'm around," he whispers into my hair.


	12. Dragons and Fairies

I walk down the steps towards Draco. We agreed to meet outside; he knows how much I hate crowds. I see a figure in black robes standing in the fairy lights. My stomach feels all fluttery and I pull at my short skirt self consciously. The grounds have been magicked with fairy lights and the music can be heard out here through little black boxes that Draco calls speakers. It's dark and romantic with little benches and flowering rose bushes lining the pathway to the front entrance of the school. I tap Draco on the shoulder and he turns, smiling. I gasp. He is dressed in dark green, tight-fitting robes, so dark they look almost black. They have a strange pattern on them that looks like Dragon scales. He's wearing dragon hide gloves and boots and all black clothes under his robes. His mask is also black with green flames licking up it. But the most amazing are the huge, intricate green dragon wings attached to his black. They are so well made they look real.

"Do you like my costume?" he asks, spreading his arms wide and turning in a circle like a model. I giggle, but abruptly stop myself.

"Are those dragon hide?" I ask, pointing to the gloves and boots.

He laughs the loveliest laugh ever. His head tilts back and his chest rises up and down. I love to watch him laugh. "Ginny, do you think I don't know you by now? You would decapitate me if I wore anything that had actually been part of a unique animal, especially Dragon hide."

I feel myself turning a deep red color and shrug. My flat, brown, second hand shoes have just become very interesting. I stare at the little silver buckle. I feel a hand lift my chin up.

"Can I have this dance, Ginevra?" Draco asks me. His voice sends a shiver up my spine. I nod quickly. The song is a slow one. Draco puts his hands around my waist. I KNOW I'm as red as a tomato. I slip my hands around his neck, which I must admit, is a bit hard considering our humungous difference in height. Draco is moving from side to side, and he keeps staring at me. I wonder if I didn't put the make up on right. I've never worn make up before, so when Lavender Brown gave me a makeover, I had no clue if my face was supposed to be all sparkly and my lashes were supposed to look all long and stuff. And my lips were really shiny too. I just hoped Draco wouldn't laugh at me. He's always grown up around girls with perfect hair and makeup. Around normal girls.

"What are you thinking about Ginny?" Draco asks, startling me. I look into his eyes, oh Merlin, his beautiful, blue-grey eyes.

"Nothing," I say quietly.

"Yes you were," he says. His face scrunches up and it looks really cute as if he's trying to figure out something really hard. "Something is bothering you," he says quietly. "What's wrong?"

I wouldn't tell him, but something about Draco makes me want to tell him everything. Makes me trust him and know that I can tell him something and he won't judge me.

"I was wondering...why you are my friend. I mean, you're so sophisticated and smart and funny. And you're sociable and rich. Why are you friends with me?"

At first he seems confused and then happy. "Interesting, because I've always felt the same way. Only reversed. I come from a rich family full of Death Eaters. I'm in Slytherin and I'm often told I'm loud and obnoxious. But yet you, the intriguing, quiet, thoughtful girl are friends with me. I suppose you could say opposites attract." He laughs.

"I know, but, sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for you," I whisper, and wish I hadn't said it. Draco's face is full of anger and shock. I stare at the golden clasp on his robes.

"Ginny," he says, his voice commanding. He grabs my chin and gently tilts it up so we are eye to eye. "Ginny, never, ever feel as if you aren't good enough for me. Do you know how many days I go feeling as if I don't deserve you? But _never_ do I want so see you put yourself down. You are the most amazing person in the world. I love you, Ginny."

"What," I gasp, the air leaving my lungs. My eyes widen.

"I love you Ginny. I have since the day I skipped rocks with you into the lake. I've been waiting to tell you, and I just want to know if you feel the same way. Before I continue feeling this way about you."

I swallow. And swallow again but my mouth feels dry.

"I-" I begin, but it comes out squeaky. "I do, like you I mean. A lot."

"But do you love me?" he asks. I think for a moment. And then it hits me. Oh Merlin. I'm in love with this boy. It's more than just a crush. He's my other half, I only feel happy anymore when I'm around him. He's the only one I can talk to, literally. He understands me and defends me and he is bloody hot! Not to mention, he is gentle and loving and caring. And I've just realized it, Draco Malfoy is my world. He's the reason I wake up anymore. He's the one person I look forward to talking to in the evenings and studying with. He's the one person I trust with my life.

"Yes," I say, but it comes out really super squeaky so even I can barely hear myself. So I nod. And then, Draco smiles. And he leans down and his lips touch mine. This is my first kiss. I feel myself kissing him back, my heart feels light and everything else has disappeared from around me. It's the oddest thing, being kissed. So strange it makes me giggle. Draco pulls away and smiles at me.

"Good," he says. I pull him into a tight hug and bury my head into his shirt, breathing in his scent. "Because I would kill myself if you had said no. You're my fairy, and I'm your dragon." Just like my necklace. I had always thought my brother Charlie to be my dragon. I loved him so much. But now I realized that Draco filled that emptiness that Charlie left when he died. That now I can love a man again, only this time it's a different love. I wouldn't say a deeper love, for my love for Charlie ran deeper than the seas, but it's a new kind of love. A love I have never experienced before. Now, Draco can be my dragon, his name even means Dragon. He can be my love.


	13. Flying

"So, why did you ask me to meet you out here?" I ask, drawing my robes against the November wind. It's been a week since the dance. A lonely week. Caught up in classes and homework and tests, Draco and I have barely had time to see each other. I'm a bit awkward around him now. Okay, so it's not like I wasn't awkward before, but now that we know how we feel for each other, what do we do? Do we continue on as if nothing happened? Am I expected to kiss him on the cheek whenever I see him? Are we supposed to go out together? Am I supposed to sit next to him during meals and feed him and call him weird names? Yeah, I can see that one going over smoothly with the entire student body. But most of all, I guess I'm wondering, am I supposed to be...you know. Intimate. Are we supposed to snog whenever we are alone together? Are we supposed to touch each other? Just thinking about that makes me blush. I mean, what if Draco wants me to have...you know, sex with him? _Stop! Stop it Ginny, you're already the color of a ripe tomato don't make it worse! Everyone is going to be staring at you!_

And then I realize that there is no one here. Just Draco and me. Which, makes me blush even more. Oh no, we're all alone on the Quidditch pitch and it's dark and Draco is walking towards me and he told me to wear comfortable clothing. Comfortable! Comfortable for what?!

"Hey Gin, you made it."

"What...exactly are we supposed to be doing tonight?" I ask, but my voice is all squeaky. Oh no, if I start talking all squeaky then Draco will ask what's wrong and then I'll have to tell him and I'll be as red as...I'll just be red. And then-

"It's a surprise," Draco says, waking me up from my worries. A surprise? A surprise?! Oh no! Surprises are not good. And he's going behind me and he's putting his hands over my eyes. And now he's steering me forward! Not good!

"Like what?" I ask.

"You'll see," he whispers. And I just KNOW he's grinning. How I know it, don't ask. I can just tell.

He removes his hands from my eyes and I look to see...a broom? I turn towards him.

"I don't understand," I say.

"I'm going to teach you how to fly," Draco says, grinning at me. He looks like an excited little boy showing me his prized toy.

"Oh no! No! No! You know how much I hate heights! No!" I yell, waving my arms in front of me.

"Oh come on, Gin. Please." Ugh! He has that stupid puppy dog face on.

"I will not fall for that, Mr. I said no! I refuse to ride some stupid broom and you can't make- Hey!"

He picks me up and slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I begin to struggle and pound him on the back, all the time yelling, "Let me down! If you don't let me down I'll Bat Bogey you! I'll do it! I'm not getting anywhere off of five feet from the ground and you can't make me!"

At this comment he has already placed me on the broom and gotten on behind me. I struggle to get off but the stupid boy is holding my arms and feet down so I can't move. And then, he kicks off. And the ground is getting farther away and we are going higher up. Oh Merlin, and I think I'm going to vomit. I grab onto the brooms stick and hug my entire body around it. Seeing as it is about an inch thick, this won't do much if we fall, but at least I can try to stay on.

We've stopped moving but I won't let go for the life of me of this bloody stick. "Ginny, sit up," Draco says. "It's okay, I won't let you go anywhere."

I wiggle my butt so it is slightly in his face in response.

"As lovely as your cute little ass is, I can't fly with it in my face."

He likes my bum?

"Ginny, would you please sit up. If you don't sit up you won't be able to know what it's like to fly."

I can hear the exasperation in his voice, but still refuse to move. And then, he doesn't the most horrible thing. He wraps his arms around my stomach and pulls me...pulls me! off of the broom so I'm sitting upright. And now, all I have is my legs wrapped around a bloody stick that is giving me a major bloody wedgy, And Draco has his arms wrapped around me and I'm at least a hundred feet in the air and-

I gasp. It's the most incredible sight I've ever seen. The setting sun is turning the sky a bright pink with some purple mixed in. The trees are shedding their leaves, leaving the ground a mixture of autumn color with reds, golds, browns, and so many other shades. The moon has already risen and is small and round, waiting for the sun's final departure so that it can cast its pale light on the night. Said sun is setting behind the school, making the castle seem to glow. And the castle itself is a beautiful sight. All the lights are on, shining our like a million golden stars. The building's shadow is ominous over the wide lake, where not a ripple breaks the surface. It's all so beautiful. Not a painter could capture this sight nor a writer give it its due. It's one of those things you have to see, one of those things that you can't stop taking in, like a parched garden absorbing the rain. You want to suck all the colors and smells and feelings into your brain forever.

I want to keep this sudden moment of bliss, with Draco's arms around me, this lovely sight before me, and this thrill of being so high in the air for the first time. But alas, it had to end. Just then, a large gust of wind blows and spins the broom around in a circle. I scream, without really meaning to, and grab Draco and hug him close to my body, hiding my head in the folds of his cloak. Draco chuckles.

"It can get pretty windy this high up in the air with nothing around you to block it out. Especially on a day like this. Though, I don't mind this position much."

I feel myself turn red, again. What is it about this boy that makes me blush so badly? And why does he have to go and try to make me blush like that anyway?

I pull away abruptly and grab back onto the broom with my hands. "So...ummm, what now?" I ask, laughing uncomfortably.

"Well, first we're gonna do some laps so you can learn how to fly and turn."

Draco grabs the broom around my hands and links is feet over mine. He is leaning over my back like a protective blanket. I feel myself blush at this provocative, to say the least, position. Yes, I'm blushing. Again. Stupid, stupid genes! Making me turn red over the slightest thing! If I had a sickle for every time I blushed, today alone, I would be able to feed my family for a year. Excluding Percy, because I don't like him, the little prick, leaving his family. Okay, maybe Percy too, if he's nice.

Draco turns the broom into the wind and we begin to glide smoothly across the air, cutting the wind like a knife. We move slowly, as to not scare me, and turn at every bend of the oval shaped field until we've made three laps. I'm starting to get the hang of leaning into the turn. If we want to speed up we must lean forward, a sharper angle for every increased meter/hour and lean back to slow or break. I find myself smiling as the wind whips at my hair, naturally combing it back. Poor Draco, having to get this head of hair in his face. I smirk; serves him right for taking me up here against my will, even if I am enjoying it. We have stopped again at the middle of the field. I turn towards Draco.

"What do you do about this bloody broom riding up your, ah-hem, bum?"

He laughs. "Well, the Quidditch robes are very padded in that, erm, area."

"So, what now?" I ask, squinting to see Draco. It's getting dark, already stars can be seen, and the only traces of sunlight are a faint glowing at the horizon. The moon is slowly creeping into the sky and growing brighter and fuller as it does so.

"The best part! Diving!" He says, and before I can object he has tilted us at and almost vertical angle and begun speeding towards the ground. I feel as if I might throw up as we pummel towards the ground. The ground is getting larger making my head feel dizzy and bile rise in my throat. I tighten my hands around the broomstick. The ground is closer, closer, closer; my hair is thrashing around my neck like whip; my eyes are watering. I can see each individual blade of grass and I shut my eyes and brace myself for the impact.

It doesn't come. I feel us sharply pull up and become parallel with the ground. I open my eyes and stare at the grass rushing under us. My knees skim across a few high weeds as we slow. Draco pulls the broom to a stop with a jerk and I collapse on to the ground, hugging it and happy to be on something solid again. I gasp as my heart begins to slow to a normal speed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy! I can't believe you did that! You scared the shit out of me!" I yell, not bothering to refrain from cussing like a sailor. Something else I learned from growing up with six brothers. I continue ranting and yelling as he crawls towards where I am lying on the ground, a smirk on his face.

"You're smirking," I accuse, confused.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," he answers, his eyes glinting and he leans over me on all fours.

"Why are you smirking?" I ask, my heart beginning to beat faster. He is kneeling over me now, his knees on both sides of my hips and his arms on the ground around my torso. I feel a shiver run up my spine as his face leans closer to mine. I can feel his warm breath on my lips, and they part slightly of their own accord.

"Because I wanted to do this," he says. And then he presses his lips to mine and I feel as if I'm exploding inside of me. It's one of those kisses that aren't one kiss, but many small wet ones in a row. He is biting my lower lip, Merlin, I don't know if I can handle this. And then his tongue is in my mouth and he is playing with my shirt buttons and I'm running my hands through his smooth hair tousling it. And now he has undone three of the buttons already and I am taking of his shirt and running my hands allover his perfectly muscled abdomen. I trace one of the deeper scars on his chest. And then my shirt falls on the grass behind me and he is undoing the buttons on my pants and suddenly it's as if I've woken up. My eyes shoot open and Draco begins to trail kisses along my stomach and play with pants. And I realize that he wants to have sex with me, just like I was afraid of. Abruptly, I feel extremely sick at the thought.

"Draco?" I whisper.

"Hmmm," he half groans half asks. He is sucking at my belly button, as his hands are gradually moving lower into my jeans.

I feel my eyes widen and it's like that Muggle saying that Draco told me, what was it… oh yeah, like a deer caught in headlights. I never quite understood that.

"D-Draco!" I yell, pushing him away and jumping up. He is staring at me from the ground, confusion etched across his face. I grab my shirt and begin to run back to the castle, adjusting my clothes as I go. I can hear Draco following behind me, his footsteps heavy as he calls out my name.

"Ginny! Ginny wait! Ginny stop!" He grabs my arm and turns me towards him. He is panting and staring at me inquisitively. "What's wrong?" he asks once he catches his breath again.

I stare at the ground, my face hotter than the sun and self consciously fidgeting with my clothes. "N-n-nothing," I stutter.

"Ginny, don't lie to me, it never works," he says. He puts his hand on my cheek, making me flinch. "Tell me what's wrong," he says, using a more authoritative voice.

"I just, I just…"

"Gin," he steps closer to me and I back out of his reach, staring at my shoes.

"Tell me," he commands, grabbing my face and lifting it up to look into his eyes.

"Do you want me to have sex with you?" I blurt out, and then gasp at my words. I blush and divert my eyes from Draco's.

"Well…..umm…." he chuckles nervously and runs a hand through his hair. "Well…you are, very, very, extremely, really-"

"Get on with it."

"Oh, um, attractive, and I can't say that I don't want to make love to you. Why?" He asks, leaning in to kiss me. I turn my cheek towards him, still not looking at him.

"What?"

"I'm scared," I whisper, tears trickling down my cheeks.

"Of what?" he whispers back.

"You. I'm scared of…will you stop loving me if I don't have sex with you?"

He is quiet for a few moments. I look into his face and see a few tears shimmering down his own cheeks. "Ginny, do you think that I'm so horrible that I would stop loving you if you didn't have sex with me? Do you really think that? Do you think that I would ever demand anything from you that you were not yet ready to give?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything when I'm around you. I feel so…confused."

I loop my arms around his waste and bury my head against his chest. "Is love supposed to be so confusing?"

"I don't know. I've never been in love until now. But Ginny, I don't want to make you do anything until your ready. And I will not pressure you into anything either. I love you, and my love is stronger than my lust towards you. But can I ask you to do one thing for me?"

I nod. "What?" I ask.

"Will you smile for me?"

I look up at him and smile.

"Thank you. I'm addicted to that smile. Now let's walk back up to the castle. I'll see you to your dorms."

"Can we sleep together in the classroom again tonight?" I ask.

"Okay, but only sleeping."

"Duh pervert!" I hit him across the chest, and then begin apologizing as he gasps. "I'm so so sorry! Are you okay? Are you sure?"

"I'm fine!" he chuckles, and puts his arm around my shoulders as we head towards the castle.


	14. Kidnapped

It is Thanksgiving weekend. All week I have been piled up with homework from my teachers, one in particular, Snape. He has been picking on me specifically it seems. I was merely thinking about Draco's note on Friday when he barged into my thoughts and asks me the use of a Truth Serum. I stared at him blankly, trying to think of something.

"Haven't got an answer Miss Weasley?"

"Ummm…"

"Well! At least give me a plausible excuse to why you did not read the material last night so that I have a reason to give you a detention, instead of staring at me with your mouth open."

Okay one, my mouth was open because I had caught a cold and couldn't breathe through my nose. How is that my fault? And two, I had not done the reading assignment because I had spent the majority of the evening curled up in Draco's arms watching how cute he looked as he slept. And it was storming so I couldn't have slept anyway. But back to Snape.

I wasn't really sure so I decided it would be okay to be vague. I mean, Serum - potion, easy enough; it was a truth potion. Well, I guess I had been so tired that I wasn't thinking clearly because I opened my mouth and said easily "It's a potion that makes you tell the truth."

I hadn't really realized what I had done until I heard the class gasp in unison, as if they were some kind of chorus, and Snape's eyes went wide as he backed up until he toppled over a chair. At first I was mortified when I realized that I had just spoken. I had spoken for the first time in public in the past half a year. And then I thought, why not? Maybe I was ready to come back into the world. I just hadn't meant for it to be such a drastic comeback. Maybe start talking to my family again first, then my friends, and then the professors, and finally other students my age. But here I had gone and spoken clearly in front of everyone out of the blue.

And to tell you the truth, I guess I was so tired that I didn't care. Because at the moment, seeing Snape lying there with his feet in the air and the desk toppled over, his eyes wide and his mouth for once not criticizing, laughing was more important than sitting there mortified. And that's what I did. I began to laugh. Laugh until I had to clench my stomach so it stopped hurting. Long story short, I got a detention for the next night and the bell rang and I left the class with people whispering behind me. I wanted so badly to talk to Draco and tell him everything about it, but I hadn't seen him all day. I also wanted to beg him to tell me about my surprise.

See, that morning in the Great Hall Draco had sent me a note through his eagle owl. He said he wanted to see me this evening and take me out to dinner in Hogsmeade in celebration of Thanksgiving weekend. He had said to meet him at ten o'clock in Hogsmeade near the Owl Post. Even more romantic, he said to wear the dress he would send to my dorms. I ran all the way up the stairs before Potions, my heart giddy, and straight to my room where, thankfully, the girls were not at. On my bed lay a brown, packaged envelope. I tore it open, my heart racing, and gasped at what was inside. A long, flowing, silver gown lay in the brown paper wrapper. It had a corset top and thin spaghetti straps to hold it up. I giggled when I saw how low cut the corset was. The skirt that came out of it was also silver and flowed like water. It puffed out only slightly and ended at my feet. In the box was also a pair of strappy, silver high heels.

I had thought that was all. But as I was about to walk out the door at nine p.m. I glanced something silver and shiny out of the corner of my eye. I walked over and looked into the box to see that I had missed something: a silver chain with green diamonds hanging off of it in an upside down triangle pattern. At first I thought it was a necklace, but realized quickly that it had no clasp to allow me to place around my neck. Then I saw a note with it, written from Draco. He explained that it was like a crown, to hang down over my head. I placed it on quickly and ran down the stairs.

And that led me to here. I am making my way through Hogsmeade towards the Owl Post. Why Draco would chose the Owl Post I'm not sure. It's farthest from everything in town, off to the side. But I suppose he has his reasons. I see a figure up ahead clad in black robes. It must be Draco. I touch my hair self consciously and pull at the dress (which exposes even more chest than I had originally thought). I strode briskly to him, my stomach filled with butterflies. Tapping on his shoulder, I take a deep breath.

"What do you think?" I whisper.

He turns briskly and lifts and eyebrow. His eyes travel from my feet to my chest to my face and back to my chest. He smirks and says, "Hot."

And from Draco this would be a compliment. But I gasp when he turns and see that it is not Draco. For this boy has long, black hair and is slightly shorter than Draco. He has a masculine build and sapphire blue eyes, so much unlike Draco's grey blue eyes. Also, he is the brother of the girl I punched in the face a few months ago.

"Zabini!" I yell, covering my exposed chest and backing away quickly. "What are you doing here? Where is Draco?"

I glance around, hoping against hope that Draco will pop out and place a protective arm around me. Only he doesn't.

"I believe Draco is busy looking for you in your dorms. I do think he was planning on surprising you by making a little twilight picnic for the two of you. Too bad you had plans already."

"What! What are you talking about? You wrote that note? You forged my boyfriend's handwriting!" I begin to back up, realizing that I'm alone with a guy who would like to beat the crap out of me in revenge for his sister's pretty nose, either that or rape me.

Zabini grabs my arm and pulls me against him. "Oh no you don't, you little brat. I have specific orders from my master to bring you back in one piece. I'm already ten minutes late."

"Your, your…master?" Suddenly everything makes sense. He brought me here so that he could kidnap me and take me to Voldemort. I begin to struggle, though I know it's no use. The boy is almost a meter taller than me, and twice as strong. And stupid, gullible me, I had left my wand, figuring I wouldn't need it.

"Now, where do you think you're going? Perhaps after Voldemort is done with you, we can have a little…fun."

He smiles cruelly and I feel myself shuddering violently as I continue struggling. He pulls out his wand and for a second I'm afraid he is going to hex me. But he merely spins us and we apparate. I've never apparated before, and the feeling of being squeezed through a tube (or a corset) until I can't breathe makes me sick. Finally, I feel my feet on solid ground. Not for long though. Zabini grabs my arm and begins to drag me down a corridor to a large stone door with snakes engraved around it. After saying a password he pushes me into the center of the room. It is a large room, with low lights and plush carpets. I'm surrounded by a large circle of Death Eaters (though I'm sure it is only a small percentage of all of them). In the front (how you can have a front of a circle beats me) sat, none other, than Voldemort, in a red velvet throne chair. Zabini bows deeply, cooing apologies for being late. With a swipe of his wand and no emotion on his face Voldemort puts him under the Cruciatus curse for almost half a minute. Either he doesn't tolerate tardiness very well, or getting Tom Riddle back is very important. Probably the later. Letting him off the curse Voldemort points him to a gap in his circle where Zabini stands, cowering. Even though he kidnapped me and brought me here against my will, I feel a bit sorry for the guy. The wizard then stands up and walks towards me. He is disgusting looking, is the least I can say. His face is bony and pale. His eyes are red and slanted like a snake. His long, thin fingers reach out and trace against the outline of my cheek, making me shudder violently and step back, glaring at him.

"So nice of you to join us, Miss Weasley. Do you know what a Horcrux is?" Even his voice resembled that of a snake's.

I do not answer, but merely continue staring at him, making sure he does not try again to touch me with his grotesque fingers. "It is where a person places a portion of their soul. I created my first when I was sixteen, whom you remember as Tom Riddle. Another when I was twenty one. I created seven in all. There are two ways to reintroduce a Horcrux back into the world. One is by using the soul of a human being to give it life. Another, less known, is to take the blood of a living victim of the soul and use it to bring the Horcrux back. The victim will live through the spell, though they will be permanently scarred for life and always have some sort of connection to the Horcrux. We are using the latter, seeing as it is much faster than draining the energy from a soul, as you already know, for it has once been done to you I do believe?"

I gasp. "How do you know about that?"

"Stupid young girl. All of the Horcruxes are a part of me. Everything that happens to one of them happens to me and all the others as well. This way I can bring my old Horcrux back and have my younger self to reign after me, and if I can succeed in bringing back all the others, I could rein terror over the world."

I can feel the anger boiling inside of myself. This man was exactly as Draco had said, a faceless, emotionless, greedy terrorist. "You disgust me!" I spit at him. Literally. I spit on him. And I find it quite hilarious to see the anger on his face. That is until I am crunched in a ball on the floor, pain coursing through my body. My muscles feel as if they are being stretched until they rip. I bite my lip to keep from screaming out as my arms and legs are bent in strange positions. Tears fall out of my tightly shut eyes as an electrical shock like feeling goes through me. Thankfully it is ended soon enough, and I sink into the floor, panting as if I have run ten miles. I wipe at the tears on my cheeks and force myself to stare defiantly at him, even though I evidently shake with fear.

"Never, never be so disrespectful to me if you wish to live after this. Wormtail! Bring her here! We will do the spell immediately!"

A Death Eater grasps my arm tightly and pulls my roughly to my feet. He drags me to the front of the circle and throws me onto the floor in front of a scaly, slithering snake. I stare at it as it circles around me, trapping me, keeping its green, beady eyes on me. It flicks out its tongue hungrily.

"Slit her wrist Wormtail. But don't hit any major veins. She at least has to live until the end of the spell. And I don't want a big mess."

I struggle as the man places a cold, metal knife to my delicate, pale skin. He slices downward, on the right side of the blue vein in my arm, making me scream out in pain. I try to cover my rapidly bleeding arm with my hand, but it is impossible for my other arm is trapped behind my back. The death eater holds my bleeding arm towards the snake, as if as an offering of friendship. The snake slithers out its pink tongue, tasting the blood, before placing its entire mouth upon my arm.

Though I am lucky it doesn't bit down with its sharp fangs, I can not breathe a sigh of relief, for immediately the snake begins to change form. Slowly, the tail grows into legs and separate. A torso forms from the midsection of the snake, arms sprouting from it. Lastly, the snake's head changes until it has becomes a human one with a full stock of long, messy black hair and a handsome face. The mouth pulled away from my arm as I am thrown, forgotten, to the floor by Wormtail, who quickly bows to the boy before him. I grasp my arm, trying with all my might to stop the blood flow, while I watch the boy through tear-filled eyes, wondering if there would be any signs of recognition of me. For I know who he is when those green eyes open. The face is slightly thinner and paler, and the eyes darker, deadlier, wiser. The boy, man, whichever it is that is standing up slowly, as if testing his legs, is also a few centimeters taller than I remember, and his hair slightly longer, down almost to his chin. But he is still the same. He is the twenty-one year old version of Voldemort.

The boy scans the room before him, finding me crouched over my arm on the floor. He walks towards me, a malicious smirk on his face. He does not seem embarrassed by his nakedness or the people staring at him.

"I thought your essence tasted familiar, Ginevra. Why, the last time I saw you, I was only sixteen, and you eleven. You must be, what, sixteen now? And you have grown very nicely." His eyes rake my body, stopping at my chest, which is puffing out largely from the tightness of the corset I'm wearing. I cover my chest with my arms, my left hand still gripping my bleeding right arm. He sees this, and takes my right arm away from my chest, examining it.

"Somebody, bring me a wand!" he barks commandingly to the Death Eaters. Healing my arm easily, he clucks his tongue. "Quite unfortunate that your lovely, smooth skin will be marred by such a gruesome scar for the rest of your life."

I pull my arm back, staring at a deep, white scar running down it, where it was cut. "Do not touch me Tom."

"Honestly Ginger, you know how much I hate the name Tom." I squint when I hear his pet name for me. "You," he points to Blaise Zabini, "take Miss Weasley to the dungeons immediately. Oh, and do not soil her. She belongs to me now, and I will know if any one of you tries something." This was directed to the entire group, not just Zabini.

With that I am carted away, crying over my fate. Please, Draco, please save me.


	15. Deep Magic

I am thrown onto the floor of a dim, dingy dungeon. The door is thrown shut with a slam and locked tight. I can hear each and every individual lock clanking loudly. Two feet step away until I can no longer hear them on the stone flooring and all is quiet.

Draco. I try to reach out to him with my mind, hoping that Merlin's magic can let him hear me. But it does not work. I have very little faith that I will come out of this without Tom Riddle taking something from me, my virginity to be specific. I feel lost sitting on the cold stone floor. Lost and cold and empty. It's freezing down here, and I being the stupid girl that I am didn't wear stocking under this stupid dress. I had felt so pretty earlier, standing in front of the mirror in the dress that showed off my curves. The flowing, beautiful skirts made me feel like a princess. I wanted to never take of the gown. Now I want to take it off and never put it back on. This dress was picked out for me by death eaters. Just touching it makes me feel dirty. But without it, I would be naked. For now it will be like a shield to keep Tom out. Or at least an obstacle.

But, my feet are killing me, with these stupid heels. I remove them and throw them across the room. Then I walk over to them and pick them back up again. The heel is about a five centimeters, and not very pointed. But as far as weapons are concerned, it's one of the few items I have to rely on. I grab the heal and in one quick snap break it off of the shoe, doing the same for the other. Examining myself for anything else that I could use in self defense, I feel like a girl going into battle. A battle against my worst enemy. A battle against my greatest fear. It is ironic that just now, after everything I have been through, am I realizing my greatest fear. And it isn't death. And it isn't losing a loved one, though it does come in a close second. And it isn't even the fact that I am stuck here in a Death Eater dungeon. My greatest fear is losing my virginity to that monster Voldemort. Or should I even give him the right of being called Voldemort? Should I not call him Tom? It would make him angrier to hear his father's name. Yes, I believe I will. Anything to make him mad, and give him a distraction. I need as much time as I can possibly have if, no when, he tries to force himself upon me. For I know he will. He is a sick, deranged freak, and would find the best pleasure, both physically and mentally, by raping me. I need time to find an escape.

Obviously there is none down here. I've of course already tried the cell doors. I've walked the perimeter of the dark cell looking for a window. There is none of either. And I can only see a few feet ahead of me, at the most. I put my head in my hands, only to feel something there. I remove the necklace like thing from my head, remembering it to be the tiara. I had giddily put it on when I though it was from Draco. I stare at it. Of what use could it be to me? I can't think of any weapon I could use it for. But as I said before, I will need all the protection I can get. I loosen the straps on the corset of the dress, giving me breathing room in case I have to make a run for it, and wrap the tiara around my arm, clasping it. Hopefully it will be of some use to me. I look around me. I have my two high heels: my knives. My tiara: whatever uses it will be. And my dress is as loose as it can be: my combat uniform. It would be nice to cut the skirts shorter, allowing me more access to run. But I have nothing sharp enough. I run my arm across the scar. And I have a battle wound already.

The scraping of metal on metal and loud, drunk, male voices wakes me. I sit up groggily and blink at the light that is protruding into the back of my cell from the torches in the men's hands. I'm disoriented for a moment, and then the recollection of last night's events, or however long I have been asleep in this lightless cell, return to me. I was kidnapped by Death Eaters. And now they are crowding around my cell, about seven or eight of them. Two of them stumble in, and I can smell the firewhiskey on their breaths from where I sit on the floor about five feet back. I turn my head and hear the bones in my back and neck crack. Sleeping on stone definitely is not good for the body.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice icy, with only the tremor of surprise and fear in it.

"Hmmm. We wanna have fun…a little fun, baby. You so cute. We won't be too rough, if you promise to behave." One of the men says, slurring his words, a lopsided smirk on his face. The others are just as drunk. An advantage for me. They are careless and weak.

The man steps forward and grabs my arm roughly. For being drunk he is fairly strong.

"Let me go!" I yell. But he doesn't. He drags me out of the cell and stumbles up the steps of the dungeons. Two broad, heavy metal doors open and I step onto a cold marble floor. The walls are green and eerie paintings of bad wizards cover them. It is rich with huge silver tapestries and black rugs. Candles light the way as he drags me, the others following cheering and whistling. They drag me into a room that smells like smoke and booze. Even more drunk men are in here. A bar is in the corner, and the men push me onto a table.

"Make her take her clothes off!"

"Let's have rounds to see who gets to have a go first!"

"Dance bitch! Dance!"

Their yells frighten me, but at least I can tell that there is not a sober man in this room. That part is good. I stand on the table as they suggest crude and disgusting things to do with their new captive. The door is still open and unguarded. All I need to do is get away from the table. But how?

I feel desperate as one of them, the one that dragged me here, begins to pull at my clothes. "Take your clothes off!"

I push at his hands. I need some sort of something to knock them away from the table.

And then, an odd feeling rolls across my body. Like heat flowing under my skin, I can feel a strange magic moving towards my hands. And suddenly, the room feels as if it is rocking as a bright blue light leaves my hand, knocking away the man pulling at my clothes and anyone else in the vicinity of three feet. I don't ponder on what just happened. I don't stare at my hands in wonderment. I immediately take off, as the stunned men stare after me. I turn left, away from the dungeons, and run as fast as my short legs will allow across the cold marble floorings. I can hear them yelling and following, finally having gotten over the initial shock and realized that their entertainment has taken off.

Running, I turn on any hallway I see, not bothering to remember which way. I know I'm underground, there are still no windows. I need to find stairs. I ponder what just occurred as I run with all my might. What happened to me back there? I had used wandless magic during school. I suddenly felt stupid for just now remembering so. But even then, the magic had never been so powerful and never made me feel as drained as I did right now. That magic wasn't normal. It wasn't dark magic. But it wasn't something taught every day in school. It was like I had wished for protection, and it had been granted. I stare down at my neck. The dragon's eyes are glowing ever so slightly. But I have no more time to worry on it. I run with all my might towards…towards where I'm not sure. For all I know I'm making circles. I can hear the men's voices behind me. Luckily in there drunken state they make up for my short height. I'm slightly faster than them, but only slightly. I turn left and suddenly see a set of stairs going up. I race with all my might up them, not making a sound accept for the flapping of my bare feet. My feet are beginning to sting. My calves burn. I remember leaving my shoes in the dungeons. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I run up the spiraling staircase. It is narrow and dimly lit. This must be the back stairs. I finally come out into another hallway. It is long, with many hallways jutting off of it. The floor is cold as ever, though it is slightly warmer being above ground level. The walls are silver and up ahead a large window with green velvet curtains awaits me. In front of the window are two benches with a chess table in the middle for entertainment. I can hear rain pounding on the windows. So it's raining outside. I immediately begin to run towards the window. I push the table out of my way, as the glass pieces shatter and break against the floor. I try to open the window, but it is obviously not meant to be opened. There are no latches and no individual pains, just one large, stained glass window of a serpent.

I pound on it, but it doesn't break, doesn't budge. It's been magicked not to. Even picking a chair up and throwing it at the window makes no difference. I will have to fight fire with fire, magic with magic.

I try to look deep inside of myself. Find where that magic came from before. I push my hands to the glass. I need it to open. I need it to open. Please please open. I can feel the heat returning to my hands, and am greatly surprised. I can control it. I can control the magic. But suddenly it is receding. I need to focus. Stop thinking. I close my eyes and concentrate on the glass breaking, the window opening to reveal soft green grass. And suddenly there is a cracking sound. A crack is forming under my hand. I begins to back away, but then realize it is my hands doing it. It is the magic in my hands breaking the glass. I run my hand from where it is to the highest I can reach, a deep, sharp crack following it. I cross my other hand against the pass, making an L of the two cracks. I run my hands in a square large enough for me to fit through, and then push at the square with my hands. The glass falls out and shatters on the ground, not leaving a cut on me. For being on the first level I'm about two meters from the ground. I place my hands on either side of the square in the glass and make to push myself out.

Only to feel myself being pulled back by a strong hand clasped around my necklace, choking me. I fall to the floor, my back being cut by the broken glass of the chess pieces. I stare up, and into the furious glowing eyes of Tom Riddle.


	16. Time

"Well well well. So I see we have a talented little witch, hmm? But honestly, Ginevra, trying to escape from right under my nose? I don't think so."

His eyes turn dark. I stare into their red, swirling depths. The drunk men had told Tom what happened, who had thenceforth taken me into the middle of a Death Eater meeting he was late for to tell Voldemort who was now pondering how to punish me for my attempted escape.

"You have some interesting magic Miss Weasley. Why don't you care to show us some?" The drunk Death Eaters begin to whistle. The sober ones grin maliciously.

I do not want to reveal my newfound magic, but I don't want to disobey him either and end up dead. I decide to humor them for as long as I can, to spare Voldemort's wrath. I close my eyes and think of Tom. A fiery red hatred grows inside of me and spreads to my hands. They feel as if they themselves are on fire. I looked down to realize that they are. I pull my hand back and throw the fiery green magic at him. Tom, of course, dodges it easily, but he still stared in shock at the tapestry behind him that catches on fire and begins to singe. Flicking his wand and muttering a spell he puts out the flames before turning back towards me, an eyebrow lifted amusedly.

"I'm feeling a little harsh feelings here, Ginger."

"Silence!" Voldemort commands (the older one) before resting his snake like face on his hands and staring intently at me. "Very interesting indeed. Miss Weasley do you realize you inhabit a very special magic? Very special indeed. I'm guessing you know of dragons Miss Weasley?"

I glance between him and Tom, who is grinning in his own little perverted thoughts. I do not answer though. I feel as if I can't speak. My voice is suddenly strained as the thought of dragons brings back the thoughts of my brother. Who was killed by a man standing in this room under the command of the very man I stare at right now.

"Dragons are very…protective creatures. They don't like humans much, and will kill any human that threatens them immediately, but those that they do like, for any number of odd reasons, they take a great protection over. A magical protection. They store in that person a special gift of dragon magic. Not so much as in a full sized dragon, for that would kill a human, but they store a small percentage of their magic in the person. And they put them forever under their protection. If the person is ever in need and comes across a dragon, though this is rare, the dragon will do all they can, even die, to help them. They also have the gift of telepathic communication with any dragon in which they meet. This gift is rare and offered to few humans or other creatures. What I can't comprehend is why they are protecting you."

He stares at me curiously. I look down at my necklace. Dragon metal. I think back to my brother. Charlie loved dragons. He loved them so much that one time, when he had fallen from a broom, a small dragon he was training swept under him and saved his life. I think back to when Charlie gave me my necklace. The words he whispered as he lay dying, his lifeblood pouring out of the wound in his stomach.

"Keep it on always. You will always have my protection that way, Gin Bug." He smiled weakly.

"Charlie! Charlie you can't die! No!" But his eyes closed anyway. I wept over him, my head in his hair. "I promise." I whispered.

I hadn't remembered this memory until just now. That night had been such a blur, and for some reason, this moment, the moment of his death, erased from my mind. Perhaps I had done it to myself, to protect myself from the pain, I do not know.

Had by giving me the necklace, Charlie offered me the protection of the dragons? But he had given me the necklace before he had been attacked. As if he knew my life were in danger. As if he knew I would need the protection. Did Charlie know all along what was going to happen? Did he know the Death Eaters were after me? One thing was for sure, he didn't know that they would attack that night. Nor that that would be the last night I would ever see him alive.

"I do believe we can find some way to keep her from at least using the magic. There is no way for her to summon a dragon, there are none within a hundred miles. But we can at least remove the necklace."

"That will not remove the magic, only make it weaker. The necklace is merely a storage container for her magic to build up in so that she can use it. Either way, she permanently has the dragon magic and protection upon her. What we need is a material that will counteract with the magic and keep her from using it." "

I do believe I have just the thing for it." A female voice is speaking. I look up to see Bellatrix Lestrange staring at me, her eyes cold and emotionless.

"Well get it then! I want it here as soon as you can get it! Until then, Miss Weasley does not leave my sight. You are all dismissed!" Barks the voice of Tom Riddle. The room quickly empties out, until I am alone with Voldemort and Tom Riddle. I shudder involuntarily and stare at the door, willing it to be open. It rattles once, twice, but doesn't budge.

"Stop it unless you want to be in very great pain" mutters Tom's voice near my ear. I jump, shocked, and step a good meter away from him. I look at my hands and realized they are glowing. I had been wishing the door to be open. So maybe I don't have such a great control over my powers as I thought.

"Why am I still here?" I question him, lifting my nose in the air and trying to look like I'm not afraid, though inside I fear I might die.

"Well at first, I was only going to keep you for pleasure," he laughs, grinning maliciously. I hear a sigh and see the older Voldemort rolling his eyes. For some odd reason, I can not picture so human a reaction on his face. It is too mind-boggling, so I look away from him and back at Tom. "But now that we have discovered this little tidbit of information, you will be of great use to our cause."

"I would never work for you!" I yell at him, my face set in what I hope is a fearful glare.

"Ginevra, honestly. You don't seem to realize something. You are our captive. Our prisoner of war. Our slave, if you must. You do not have a choice. Either be cooperative, or I will be much harder to get along with."

He steps closer until his breath is on my face, and runs his hands through a lock of my hair. I lean back, flinching as his hands touched my bare neck. Then he suddenly grabs the necklace around my neck, ripping it of, breaking the clasp. He turns the broken chain and medallion around in his hands.

"Very nice, I think I will keep this."

Placing it in his pocket he walks over towards a couch, sprawling out on it lazily and smirking at me. I am trying not to cry and grab it back from him like a child.

"Give that back to me! My brother gave that to me before he died! Before he was killed by your men! It is mine!"

He stares at his pocket, his eyebrow lifted slightly. "Even more reason for me to keep it. Ransom."

Then the door is opened, Lestrange running in. "I have it sir! It is a metal forged from a potion. It is linked around dragons' legs when they are placed in the factory to be made into materials. It keeps them from using their magic. It should do the same for her. It will magically clasp around her arm, and is only removable by you or Master Riddle."

She holds out a simple enough looking metal bracelet. Grabbing my right arm, she pushes it on roughly and over my elbow and just between my elbow and armpit. It closed around my arm, and suddenly my hands feel as if their circulation is being cut off. But it was not the absence of blood in my two arms, but the absence of my magic. My newly discovered magic that I had been unknowingly harboring for the past half a year and only using for classes was suddenly cut off from my use.

"Now, you can't use your magic." She smirks at me triumphantly, then looks to Voldemort like a puppy that has pleased its master, waiting for a reward.

"Good," says Tom, looking at some papers in front of him. Battle plans and the Daily Prophet it looked like.

"Do you wish me to take her back to the dungeons master?" Lestrange asks.

"No, take her to my rooms and lock her in there. War gets so boring after a little while," he glances up at me, grinning in my direction. The woman looks slightly surprised, a hint disgusted even, but then turns her face back to neutral. "As you wish."

"No! Let me go! Let me go!" I began to yell and struggle in a desperate attempt to get away from the woman. She places a body binding spell on me, and carries me away from the room.

I can feel the tears and snot running down my face, but can do nothing to stop them or wipe them away. Draco, please help me. Pleas hurry. I am thrown into a room a few minutes later. The spell is removed and the woman stares at me.

"It would be best not to struggle," she murmurs, "and just enjoy it." She smirks at me before closing and locking the door.

I have never been so afraid in my life. Never. I have tried every way to escape. Breaking the window with a chair. It, too, is unbreakable. Opening the door. Looking for some sort of hidden passage. Nothing. I have found nothing. Tom has planned this all out, every last detail. He is probably laughing at me right now, knowing I am planning my escape and knowing at the same time it is futile.

I collapse in a corner of the room and pull my knees up to my body, resting my chin on them. Wrapping my arms around my knees I try to make myself as small as possible. And then, I cry. Draco isn't coming. There is no way he would be able to find this place and save me. I have only been gone for a day, but I know he is looking for me. But even so, it was impossible. My time is running out.

I heard the lock clank and the door open. My time is up.


	17. Rescued

I look up. Tom Riddle is closing the door and turning to me, grinning like an animal.

"Sorry I'm late. I got a bit caught up in punishing those damn Death Eaters for laying their filthy hands on you…Finally little Ginny. Finally we get to have some fun. Stand up!" He yells the last part impatiently. "Now I want you to behave. This can be enjoyable. Very enjoyable. I have had…some experience, you might say."

I stand up, shaking as the tears turn to sobs. He begins to remove his belt and shirt. He takes off his pants and stands there in just his boxers, licking his lips hungrily. "Get on the bed Ginny."

I began to cry harder. It's really happening. It's happening to me. I have always heard about rape, but I never thought it could happen to me.

"I said get on the bed!" he yells, grabbing my hair in his fist and pushing me down on the bed. I cried out with the force of his push as my head knocks against the headboard, making me dizzy. I can feel my head bleeding. He is getting on top of me. He still has his boxers on, that much I am thankful for. He begins to tear at my clothes. I struggle to push his hands away, and soon we were all out fighting. He punches me hard across the chin, making my head jerk to the side. Grabbing my hands, he uses his wand to tie them together and to the headboard. And then he is freely pulling at my clothes. His eyes roamed my naked torso and chest. I feel so ashamed, so dirty. So violated. His hands are roaming my chest, touching anything and everything. I turned my head away in shame. Someone, help me.

It occurs so suddenly I am not positive what is going on. Tom is thrown off of my body and onto the floor. Draco is standing over me, wand in hand, his face red with anger and hatred as he glares at Tom. Am I just imagining it? Is Draco really here, in the room with me, saving me? And then Tom is lunging for his wand and suddenly the two are fighting a battle to the death. Spells are flying as one is struck down, only to get up and throw another spell. I tug at the rope, it is loose enough. Even with a wand, Tom isn't very good at tying knots. I pull and tug with my hands until the rope comes loose.

I am free! I sit up and pull the corset back over my chest, tying it sloppily. I have to help somehow. But how?

Suddenly Draco's wand is flying across the room and breaking against the wall and he is struck to the floor and Tom is standing over him, ready to kill. I have to do something, fast. I see the chain around my arm. The stupid tiara. Unclasping it, I run up to Tom, screaming a warrior chant. I jump, landing on his back, and wrap the tiara/necklace/whatever you want to call it around his neck and leaned all my weight back. He drops the wand and pulls at the chain around his neck. He begins to swing around, trying to knock me off of his back. Slamming my back into the wall, he is going blue without breath, and I cry out "Draco! Get the wand!"

Draco nods and lunges for the wand, lifting it towards Tom.

Tom grabs my hair and flips me over his back, slamming me into the floor. Rasping for breath he lifts me up by my hair and holds me in front of him.

"You dare cast a spell at your girlfriend, you traitor of a Malfoy?"

Draco looked from my face to Tom's and back.

"You haven't got the guts. You wouldn't hurt her. You couldn't."

Draco is torn and stalling for time. "Let her go!"

"Hmmm…no," Tom refuses, smirking. "We were having some real fun before you interrupted Mr. Malfoy." Tom crushes his lips to mine, all the while keeping his eyes on Draco.

"Draco…" I whisper, when he finally releases me. Looking down to hide my tears, a silver glint catches my eye. Hanging out of Tom's pocket is a chain of silver, a fairy with a dragon hanging off of the end. Wear it always. Protection. Protection…

Draco begins to lower his wand. "Draco! Don't!" He stares at me, his eyes pained.

"Yeah Draco, don't. Kill me and her at the same time. At least you will go down nobly."

I stared at Draco. He could always seem to read my emotions. I forced all my emotions into that one, ten second look. I have a plan. I have a plan. A plan…

Draco raises his wand again and points it at Tom. His face is dead serious. There is no bluff in his eyes. I reach my hand towards Tom's pocket.

"You would dare kill your own girlfriend Malfoy?" Tom seems shocked.

I grasp the chain in my hand. "Now!" I yelled, yanking the necklace from his pocket. A shock of red light flies at us. I hold up the necklace to my chest and shut my eyes tight. The spell seems to fly straight through me, as if I were transparent, or it. It hits Tom, making him stumble back into the wall. He hits his head with a resonating crack and collapses.

"Draco!" I yell, throwing my arms around him and hugging him with all my might. I feel the hot tears of happiness flowing down my face even harder than those tears of sadness as I cradled Charlie in my arms. I am alive. I am still a virgin. Draco has saved me.

Draco wraps his arms around me, squeezing tightly, and begins to rock me, crying as well. "Did he…do anything?"

"No, thank Merlin, you came just in time."

Draco lets out a sigh of relief and hugs me against him, as if he never wants to let me go. I bury my head into his chest as he lays kisses repeatedly across my face. "I though I wouldn't make it in time. I love you Ginny. I will never let this happen again. Never." His lips find mine and we kiss briefly, roughly, our tears mingling. I stare into his eyes for a long time before wrapping my arms around him again. We hear a stirring.

"Is he dead?" I ask, staring at Tom.

"No, but he will be in a second." Draco walks towards Tom, lifting his wand.

"Draco!" I yell, pulling on his arm. "No. If you kill him, you will only be the same as him."

"You're defending him!" he gasps, staring astonished at me.

"Of course not. But if you kill him, that murder will be on your heart forever."

"If I kill him he can never try again to hurt you! I'm not letting him go unpunished!"

"Draco, please just don't kill him. I hate him, but if you kill him _you_ will be a murderer. Just like him, just like Voldemort, just like you father."

Draco stares at me for a moment, biting his lip. "Okay. But we need to go, now. I have a broom waiting outside. We need to fly as fast as we can. The closest civilization is a small town with about a hundred people and a lot of farms. We need to get there by tomorrow."

"How long have I been here?"

"A few days. I took the knight bus to the town, then flew here. But we need to at least get to the town before we call the knight bus. And then we can ride home."

"I just want to get as far away from here as possible."

"Me too."

Draco leads me out of the room in a tiptoe and towards a broken window down the hallway. Outside waits his broom, levitating in the air. He jumps on it and reaches out a hand, pulling me on in front of him. We are on the second level, I notice. Outside it is still raining hard. Draco wraps his arms around me protectively, tying me in a little bundle against his chest. It is like being in a very squashed, sweet-smelling, Draco tent. I lean against him, feeling the warmth of his body as my bare feet hang out under the cloak, cold in the rain. Draco takes off and flies speedily away from the building. In one hand I clench to his shirt. In the other I hold a small, delicate fairy clutching a silver baby dragon against her body.

Across the fairy's right arm is a deep, delicate white scar that will be there forever.


End file.
